Remember The Past: The 77th Hunger Games
by nb1998
Summary: The 76th Hunger Games provided a range of tributes, and only one came out as victor. Now the 77th Hunger Games have arrived and a new twist must be chosen and what's not a better way to scare the districts than to take their past and make it their future?
1. Another year, another games

**Harabel Lucsley's POV (4):**

"So how do you feel?" she asks as I sit down on the furniture provided. I just stare at her for a minute - this interview is so much different to the last one I encountered. In my last one I was just another sheep ready to slaughter but now I'm victorious, appreciated and deservedly so. It takes sheer determination and skill to win the Hunger Games. And I, Harabel Lucsley, have managed to do that. After thirty years without the Hunger Games, I've won.

"I feel good." My response is short and I make sure not to look her in the eye - it's almost as if she's looking for weaknesses in my personality. She knows I've changed, she knows I had a friendship with Luna Rose, the little girl from District Nine and I can tell any minute now she's going to force me to speak about it.

"No regrets?" she asks flipping her now emerald green hair behind her shoulder and smiling widely at me.

"Of course not, that would be illogical."

"Same old Harabel then," she sniggers. "You did extremely well in the games Harabel, what was going through your mind when you were situated in that elevator?"

"I just knew I had to run and get supplies. The other careers were too focused on fighting each other to notice me," I reply casually.

"Oh, of course. You weren't part of the careers although you did volunteer. What did you think of the careers?"

"I hated them. They were illogical, no wonder half of them were wiped out."

"You did manage to kill two of them yourself, remember?" she beckons me on.

"Ruby Dazzle, district one. Kai Brookshore, district four."

"Precisely, what were your opinions on those two?"

"They were the worst of them all. Arrogant and over-confident, they failed to realise my powers, it serves themselves right."

She looks at me strangely for a second before speaking again, "Moving on, you were a sole competitor throughout the majority of the games until you allied with Luna Rose from district nine. A shock to us all."

"And why would it be a shock?" I question her. Of course she'd bring up Luna, she's trying to show how the games changed me, but she'll fail. I can back my reasons up well enough, I'm logical.

"Well," she stops clearly shocked at my question. Serves herself right, bitch "You're from district four-"

"That I am," I reply before she can finish.

"And she's from district nine, a very strange combination," she adds on completely ignoring my comment. I'm sure President Derisse won't be too impressed by this display. Luckily there is no audience here so she isn't completely embarrassed.

"But it worked," I reply quickly.

"Yes, you made it to the final-"

"And she died, you needn't remind me," I scowl leaning back into my seat.

"Yes she did, were you upset at this point?"

"Of course not, I was in it to win it. I wouldn't have volunteered if I was going to give myself up for a twelve year old." Take that.

"But she was your ally," she perches her lips and squints her eyes slightly at me. Stupid woman, does she honestly think I will fall for her tricks.

"I knew she would die."

"Okay," her reply is awful for an interviewer and she quickly covers up. "Moving on, did you ever think you would die?"

"Only when Lars pushed me in the fire, but I recovered."

"Yes you did very well in that sticky situation. Did you think Lars was a strong competitor?"

"Clearly, he got to the final, his choices were quite logical really. But in the end I was more logical."

"And I congratulate you for that. You have done very well and you have gained your district immunity from next year's games. How do you feel about that?" she asks, happily back on track. I completely forgot about the immunity... my district won't want that.

"My district doesn't want immunity," my reply is sudden like before.

"But..-"

"No, my district is a career district. They train to compete in the games, they don't want immunity," I pierce my eyes to show my seriousness and she just begins to look confused.

"Well then, erm I'm sure we'll have that sorted for you in no time," she laughs, nervously twirling her hair.

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome, and with that our interview comes to a close. Congratulations, Harabel Lucsley of district four, victor of the 76th Hunger Games."

* * *

**_ 1 year later_**

** President Derrise's POV:**

"May I welcome on stage, to reveal this game's twist, Harabel Lucsley, victor of the 76th Hunger Games," I say clearly to the screaming crowds. I wave my hand in one direction as Harabel walks on stage, her posture as normal as ever. She walks with certainty and confidence as she makes her way to me and she shakes my hand politely.

"Thank you very much, President," she says turning to the crowd and watching as they scream for her. As she'd put it, she is a very logical victor but as I'd put she's a perfect victor. She added twists and turns to the games that we never saw coming. She killed and played the part of a tribute and in the end she rightfully earned herself place as victor. Even after the games she went through the interview with ease. I admired her confidence and authority as she spoke. She realises her power but she uses it wisely - she knows she can never dethrone me but she can dethrone others. She can easily make a fool out of someone and she has intelligence that no other tribute had. She's perfect.

I pluck the card from the table next to me and hand it to her. She quickly unfolds it and she faces the crowd.

"This year," she pauses waiting for the crowds to become silent, "to remind the districts of the past and how they will never overcome it, the twist will be a repeat on the first quarter quell, as the district will vote for their own tributes with the girl and boy with the highest votes becoming tributes." She stops and looks to me calmly. "Also, the district's that positioned worst six in the games last year will produce one extra tribute, making a total of thirty tributes."

What's not a better way to scare the districts than to remind them of their past and how it will soon become their future?

* * *

**A/N: Well this is the start of my second syot in this series of the Hunger Games. This is the 77th Hunger Games and hopefully you can see by the twist that this is going to be interesting. So I'll post the tribute list and form on my profile and once you've made the tribute PM me with the title TRIBUTE. this will not be first come first serve so make sure your tributes are original, unique, detailed etc etc.**

**Okay, Harabel is the victor of my last syot for new readers, hopefully it makes sense. She may pop up every now and again. It might help to read my last story but it's not absolutely necessary. **

**Yes, so tribute list and form on profile. Not first come first serve so I will only accept straight away if they're good enough.**


	2. Rig It

**Loralia Gene's POV:**

The votes come in fast; it is ever so interesting to watch as the numbers rise for certain people while others are left with no votes. My attention diverts to District Ten as a sudden flurry of numbers is added to a certain person. I wonder if that certain person will be graced with the honour of entering this year's games. I'm sure it will be a superb games, I've analysed who is topping the votes for many of the districts. That's the privilege of my job this year. Normally, I'm the one who has to type out each and every name to go onto the slips of paper that enter the glass bowls. This year however, I get to watch who the districts vote for, to enter the games. I get to watch as the graphs take shape and best of all, I will be the first person to know each and every tribute for this year's games.

A sudden creaking sound alerts me to look towards the wooden door. I only see the jet black hair at first and I presume it is Aroli - my personal Avox - but then I hear the threatening voice.

"A-hem," she says cockily and I turn my eyes towards our president. I'm quickly standing on my feet, nervously intertwining my bleach blonde hair between my fingers.

"And what do I owe this pleasure?" I say slowly looking her up and down, noticing the brown file held underneath her arm.

"I'm here about the tributes for this year's games," she says, walking past me and scanning the screen in front of her.

"But only about seventy percent of the votes have came in so far Miss President, I mean, erm, we don't know who the tributes will be yet," I stutter out nervously.

"Oh I know that Loralia." Oh my, she knows my name, she never pays attention to anyone's name. Does that mean that I'm important? Maybe I'll get a promotion soon; I have been working hard lately. I've been reporting all information needed on the potential tributes this year, who's coming out on top, which age groups are proving most popular, any unfamiliar trends, "I'm here about two tributes in particular," an evil grimace appears on her face and she slams the folder down on the desk, causing me to jump back in shock.

"As I said we don't know who any of the tributes are," I say quietly and nervously.

"We know two," she says smiling and then before I can interrupt she speaks again. "I'm rigging the reaping for two tributes."

"You can't do that!" I suddenly reply.

"Oh, but I can," she says, laughing slightly.

"No, that's not fair. This whole twist is about having the districts select their tributes. Don't you think it'll be a bit suspicious when a tribute is reaped that hardly anyone voted for?" I shout again uncontrollably.

"I'll sort out any questioners. After all, they're only district folk," she says casually, then she suddenly furrows her eyebrows in anger. "Do you want to keep your job or not Gene? Because if you do I suggest you stop questioning my methods. Is that okay with you?"

"Mhm," I mumble nodding my head and shrinking back a little.

"Anyway, I'm replacing the female tributes from Two and Seven."

"But-" I begin but her glare stops me.

"For the female tribute from Two, I'd like Elysia Phyre." Where have I heard that name before? Wait-

"She's from the Capitol," I whisper, almost as if I don't want anyone to hear.

"Exactly; she wanted to be in the Games and who are we to stop her? She's a peacekeeper in training, she adores the Capitol and will do anything for us. She'll be easy to manipulate in the arena; it will just make everything that little bit more exciting," she says with confidence, but she doesn't spare me a second glance.

"Where is she now?" I ask.

"She was sent into District Two last week. We need to get her used to the surroundings of district folk and also we need some people to recognise her when she goes up to the stage; that will save us from idiots asking unnecessary questions," she looks at me for the first time in a while and nods her head confidently. "Don't you worry Loralia, everything is sorted."

"Okay, okay.. and who do you want to be the female tribute from Seven?"

"Imogen Woodville," she mutters turning through her folder and suddenly stopping on a page and pointing her manicured nail at a picture of a girl in a mask. "Or should I say 'Backslash'."

"You found out who 'Backslash' is?" I exclaim in shock. Backslash has been doing her evil deeds for years now. Going out in the night and slashing people's backs, stealing unnecessary items and mugging unfortunate district citizens. I would know; since my husband is a peacekeeper, he has to investigate the murders, but to no avail. "How?"

"It appears over time she left enough evidence. A stray hair, finger prints, anything really. We found out it was this girl just today," she says flipping another page and pointing at a young girl, looking overly cheerful. "Obviously, we'd never expect it to be her, just an average District Seven citizen.." she begins to mumble and giving me another shock, she slams the folder shut.

"Anyways, you know this information is classified, Loralia. It can't be told to anyone and I mean anyone. You know the consequences." At this point I feel a small lump go down my throat as I remember last year my work colleague, Avali Torr, told her husband that the District Three boy, Lars Staal, had been rigged. She was executed immediately.

"I understand."

The door closes quietly behind her as she leaves the room and I turn back to my screen. So there's going to be a Capitol girl and a masked murderer in the arena, this should be fun.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks so much to all of you that have submitted. There is still quite a few spots open, I've asked some people who are yet to reply but anyone who hasn't submitted that is reading this, it would be great if you submit. If you want to submit, the tribute form and list is on my profile.**

**So this chapter was in the pov of a capitol citizen and Imogen and Elysia are both tributes in this years games.**

**So what do you think of Imogen and Elysia so far (I know little has been said about them)? **

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.**


	3. District 2 Reaping

**Hello guys. I've decided to do the reapings out of order so here's district 2 up first. These tributes are from MariaTheCastor, ImmyRose and Glimmerish47**

* * *

**Perseus Nelson's POV (2):**

The sword's blade slices directly through the dummy's neck and its head crashes to the ground. I don't stop there though. I slash the sword across the stomach and white fluff appears. In the arena, the dummy would be my opponent and the fluff would be their blood. It helps if you think of it that way; I don't want to get a shock when I go the arena and kill someone. I've seen other tributes break down, even last year you could see the fact they had killed someone had got to them. I slam the sword into the dummy's head and walk away from the station, leaving the sword to clatter onto the floor.

I begin to head towards the archery station - another weapon that I'm good at - when I hear the loud speaker.

"Perseus Nelson, please make your way to the office."

I suddenly stop in my tracks and stare up at the loud speaker situated on the ceiling. Why would they want me in the office? I've heard of what happens to kids that get called to the office. They get told to leave for bad behaviour or they're asked to move to a higher or lower training centre, depending on how skilled they are. For some reason I can't see me belonging to either of those categories. I haven't done anything wrong and I'm quite happy in this training centre.

I make my way towards the elevator in the corner of the room and as I walk past people make "ooohs" and "aaahs". I step in nervously and it slowly ascends upwards. Why do they want me in the office? What if it's about when I shouted at that kid last week? It wasn't my fault he was being an annoying prick. I can't control my anger, I just can't. I'm like a raging volcano; if something irritates me then I retaliate, I lash out. It's just part of who I am, and if they can't handle me then they clearly aren't doing their jobs right.

The lift comes to a slow stop and the doors open agonisingly quickly meaning I'm face to face with the head trainer of the centre, Carson Olinew. The man is massive, muscles and height. He towers over everybody he passes and he speaks with a voice that is seething with anger. He slowly takes off his glasses and places them down on the small desk in front of him, before standing up and walking over to a small poster on the wall. From here, I can't see what's on it.

"Come here, Perseus," he beckons me over with his finger and I stand in front of him. It's hard not to be terrified in his presence. "Do you know who these four people are?" he asks pointing to the poster on the wall.

"Yes, they're the tributes of last year's games," I gulp nervously, remembering how bad they did.

"And can you remember her outcome?" his finger suddenly lashes towards one of the girls, Fleur Delta.

"She died in the bloodbath, sir."

"And how about him?" his finger once again lands on another face, Luke Viper.

"He also died in the bloodbath," I pause, "sir."

"And how about these two?" This time he looks even more angry as he looks towards Vika and Cavail.

"They also died," I mutter.

"How?"

"They died at the feast. He was killed by that girl from Seven and she was killed in the explosion," I quickly reply.

"And because of that we didn't even have a tribute in the top ten," his hands curl up into fists. "And because of that we must reap an extra tribute. Last year, we allowed the tributes to fight it out for themselves to see who would volunteer but this year, as you know, there is no volunteers."

"Because of the twist," I make a small input. Normally I'm quite confident and brave, but in the presence of this terrifying man I feel weak. I feel like he could pick me up and crush me and the worst thing is that I still don't know why I'm here. Surely he hasn't just called up a random person to tell them about the failures of last year.

"Yes, because of the twist," he pauses and a small smile graces his face for the first time. He grips hold of the poster on the wall and tears it off without hesitation. "But I got to vote didn't I, and do you know who I voted for this year?" he raises his eyebrows and it suddenly dawns on me what is happening.

"No."

"I voted for you, Perseus Nelson. And I have influenced many people to vote for you. And you will be picked this year. Do you know why I wanted you as tribute?" This time I just shake my head, I can't seem weak now. I'm going to be tribute for the 77th Hunger Games. I didn't even want to be, I was going to volunteer next year when I'm at my peak. "I wanted you as tribute because I think you can succeed. I've watched you. I've watched you tear those dummies apart. I've watched your anger at other people. I've seen you win in many a dual and I'm positive when it comes to the arena you won't fail me. Like them," he looks down to the crunched up paper in his hands and tears it apart, dropping the remains on the floor.

"I won't," for the first time I sound brave. Confident. Victorious.

"Because if you do they'll be consequences," his voice is angry. "And it won't just be one Nelson that falls." My heart stops for just a second as I know what he means.

"My family?" it's more of a statement of disbelief than a question.

"Oh yes, I've researched you Perseus. I know your over-demanding Father, your hard-working older brothers and your sweet little sister," he pauses making sure that the message has clearly been put through to me. "But if you win, think of the glory and the riches. You'll be the most popular citizen in our district."

"I'll win," I sound brave once again. I pick up one piece of paper from the floor, on it is the face of Cavail Mirth from last year's games. I'll use this as my token, to remind myself that I can't fail.

"Good, now off you go to train. Remember tomorrow is your big day."

I don't say anything else as I turn and leave. I don't pay attention to how slow the elevator moves, I don't pay attention to the kids staring at me as I walk across the hall. I always thought it would be my choice when I was to go into the games, but seemingly not. I'm being thrown in whether I like it or not and it's not just my life on the line.

I don't have a choice. I have to win.

* * *

**Elysia Phyre's POV (2):**

"Today, everybody, is the reapings for the 77th Annual Hunger Games," Elia Thornton's familiar Capitolite voice rings out and I do all I can not to cheer for her. I can't do that though, not when I'm sharing a flat with some weird old woman. I look behind me and - as always - she just stands there and stares at me, her eyes dead to the world. At least today I'll get to leave this place. I'll get to go back to my beloved Capitol and then I'll be escorted into the Games. They're a great idea of showing the districts how much power the Capitol has over them. The Capitol is far superior to any of the districts, even this one.

"Today, thirty tributes will be picked by their own districts to participate in this year's games," I eagerly listen in when suddenly the TV cuts off. The TV is constantly cutting off in this place. It's probably District Three's fault; obviously they're slacking because it's reaping day. No excuse really; they brought the hard work on themselves, so they deserve everything they get.

"Killing innocent children for no reason, I hate them, stupid, stupid.." the old woman's voice trails off into near silent mutterings. She's such a stupid old hag. Honestly, how can she speak of the Capitol in such a grotesque manner? I'll make sure to have her executed or made an avox as soon as I've won the games. Despite that, I don't hate her. In fact, she seems like an okay person, but the way she speaks is foolish. I'm sure if she knew I was from the Capitol myself she would shut up, but luckily she thinks I was transferred from the orphanage two weeks ago.

I've tried not to speak to her too much, as much as my Capitolite accent is quite weak it is still distinguishable among district scum and I don't want anyone getting suspicious. Instead I've been coming across as a quiet girl who is quite closed off. Only once have I lashed out but that was over the way she had the whole house on the first day I came here. I'm sorry, but it was a complete and utter mess. Nothing was organised and I mean nothing. The TV was on the floor, there were books scattered everywhere. Random plates and leftover food was left on the sides and in the sink and the place didn't look like it had been cleaned since, well, ever. The coating of dust that had covered the whole place was absolutely disgusting. After I cleaned up then I have stayed quite quiet though.

"What time is it young 'un?" I look over to her and clear my throat, trying to sound like I don't come from the Capitol.

"Only ten," I mutter looking at the watch on my arm.

"Reapings at one..." once again her voice trails off and she begins to mutter more random nonsense. For about ten minutes, I just sit in silence until she leaves the room and I quietly tap at the TV trying to get it to come back until eventually, it does. The beautiful Capitol comes into view instantly and, oh, how I long to be back there. The buildings glimmer in the sunlight and the citizens walk through the streets happily. It's so unlike people in this district; all people do is rob and steal from each other in the streets. Not many people speak and when they do it looks like they're dealing drugs or something - they all look at each so suspiciously. I guess in a horrible place like the districts you can't trust anyone, so I'm glad I don't actually live here.

The Capitol is my home but I had to come here. I was a peacekeeper in training, I had been ever since my parents gave me up long ago. Dad was in too much debt and he needed to get rid of me somehow, so he sent me off to the peacekeeper training centre in the Capitol. I had trained there for a while and I had always tried to be the best of the best. As much as I knew a peacekeeper wasn't to be my future job, I had to impress. During the rebellion, I fought for the Capitol and the Capitol only. Then the games came back and I knew it was my destiny to go in them. So this year I asked, I asked them if I could go in. I wanted to prove how loyal and dedicated to the Capitol I am, and my commanders approved. They asked the President who also approved so they shipped me here a few weeks back and now I wait. I wait for my chance.

They've rigged the reaping so that I can get in. I've made sure some people see me round the district, as I don't want to be completely unknown when it comes to getting reaped. Just last week I made sure to make myself noticed by accidentally tripping over a peacekeeper who hit his head on the floor. Many people were watching that incident, so I think when I walk onto the stage I'll be recognised.

"District Two has the best odds to be victor this year with District Four closely behind," Elia's voice rings into my ears. Of course District Two is the favourite; that's what district I'll be representing, after all. "Harabel Lucsley, last year's victor, will be mentoring District Four tributes this year in hope of bringing back another victor for their district." Harabel Lucsley. I've watched her games; she was my favourite. She played by the rules, she didn't care what people thought. It didn't actually seem like she came from the dreaded districts. In fact, I'd like to think she's a little like me. She looks for the logic in things, maybe a little more than I do but she still.

She'll try and help her tributes this year but they won't stand a chance. Not against me. The Capitol will favour me, they will sponsor me, they will treat me like their own. In the chariot rides, they'll make sure I'm extra pampered compared to the other districts, they'll make sure I get more air time in the interviews. They'll make sure the interview makes me look fabulous. As a result, I have no doubt in my mind that I won't win these games. I'll be top of the odds for winning and consequently, I'll be the top killer. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bloodthirsty or particularly violent but I can manipulate someone into false security and then I can stab them in the back.

"The career pack will be extra strong this year as District One and District Two have to select an extra tribute each," Elia's voice interrupts my thoughts again. Of course, the career pack. It's doubtful that I'll be joining them. They'll just stab me in the back when I'm not needed, the bloodthirsty murderers. I despise them; they think they're perfect because they've trained. They think their districts are so much better than everybody else but they're wrong. All the districts deserve what they get. They were the ones who tried to take over, and they failed. It just shows how bad they are.

I suddenly hear the creaking of the floor boards and I quickly turn the TV off and resort to sorting out the cushions on the tea-stained sofa. Everything has to be perfect for when I leave this place. I can't leave this women in the terrible state I met her in, even if she is a pessimistic old hag.

"It's fine young 'un, just leave it, get yourself ready for the reaping' or somethin'," she says waving her hand at me. I begin to walk away without a word when I feel the old woman's hand on my shoulder.

"Yes?" I say in a voice that's a little too high.

"You're beautiful," she mutters oddly. Her statement takes me by surprise and briefly, I consider the possibility of her being mentally unstable.

"Thank you," I reply politely.

"Your hair, it's caramel and gold. It shines as bright as the sun.. Your eyes they're blue, sapphire blue but with a touch of amber.. Your skin, it's tanned, not a freckle in sight. You're like a model," her fingers run through my wind-tossed and dishevelled looking hair. "Don't let them take your innocence," her words touch me. Does she know? She can't; I've covered up my tracks so well.

"I won't," I mutter, not wanting to speak. Leaving her behind, I rush to my room and throw on whatever I can. I try not to think about what the woman said, I can't listen to her. I can't speak to her. She might find out. She might take me down. There's something about her...

I walk out the room quickly wearing a long sequined dress I was supplied with when I came here but I walk straight into the woman.

"Who are you?" her words stun me. Who am I? I'm Elysia Phyre. I'm a girl from the Capitol, I hate the districts and I think they deserve everything they get. I've trained to be a peacekeeper but I want to prove my loyalty and determination to the Capitol. I'm going into the Hunger Games. But I can't say that, I can't say anything.

I push past her but she grabs onto my arm hard.

"You're always watching the TV," her words are muffled and random, and before I can react, she suddenly she pulls up the short sleeves on my dress revealing my tattoo. It's a gold colour, with gold-green ferns growing up my arm.

"Stop it! You don't know anything," I scream, lashing out with my arm. She staggers backwards a bit and then lets go. I'm stronger than she is, so I can handle her with no problems.

"You're right, I don't know anything, but you do. You're from the Capitol," her words... they're so true but she's in the wrong. She's from a district. That's just wrong in itself. Everybody is wrong in the districts, they tried to rebel, they wanted the Capitol to go down.

"Leave me alone and keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you," I sprint out the house as soon as the words have left my mouth. I run down the streets trying to stop the memories of that woman. She shouldn't have found out. She should never have found out.. but it doesn't matter now, nothing does. I'm going into the Hunger Games and back to my home.

* * *

**Destiny Rose's POV (2):**

"Come on, tell me what's the matter Destiny. You know you can trust me." Amber's voice is sickly sweet as she beckons me to tell her. She knows I won't though. She knows I'm not one to trust people; I've only ever trusted two people and now they're both gone and they'll never come back. One of them, my grandmother, is in her grave, sleeping peacefully while the other hates me forever. He'll never forgive me, not after what Father did to his family. It's not my fault I was in love, but my Father blamed him and used his power to send the whole family into poverty.

"No," I mumble. I'm a strong girl, I'm top of the social ladder and everyone looks up to me but sometimes life is hard. Days like today. Three years today, grandmother died and of course today is reaping day. It's a fabulous day due to the fact that we get to watch who gets picked for the games but this year the day is overshadowed by my grandmother's death.

"Well, could you come out of the toilets at least?" she laughs a little awkwardly at the end and I swing the cubicle door open, walking out with a smile on my face. "You okay then?" she asks and I quickly nod my head. I can't trust Amber. Yes, she's my best friend but she's been known to exploit someone's secrets and I know she'll do anything to get to the top of the social ladder and that includes knocking whoever is top of it off (and at the moment that person is obviously me). On the other hand, people have trouble trusting me. It's not that I'm a bad person but being so popular means I have many friends and most of my friends are also gossips. Naturally, most people assume that I'm the same way.

We head back into the training centre and I begin to head over to the archery station to improve my skills but a bell quickly rings out. The bell that signals everyone must head to the reaping immediately. Luckily, I got changed earlier, which makes me look a great deal better than some people who are just going to have to arrive wearing their training gear.

"Nervous?" Amber's voice is quiet.

"Why would I be? There's no chance of me getting picked," I say this as confidently as possible because it's true. I doubt I'll even get one vote since no-one wants to see me go in the games. Not because I don't want to or anything; in fact, everyone knows I plan on volunteering next year when I'm at my peak. My father has trained me since I was ten in the hope the games would come back and luckily, they came back just in time. I've had a lot more training than the majority of District Two citizens so it's well known that I plan on volunteering.

"I know," she mutters then quickly changes the subject. "I like your outfit by the way, especially your necklace," I stare down at my blue knee length dress and then my eyes divert to the necklace. It's grandmother's necklace, one of the only memories I have of her.

"Thanks," I say as we finally round the corner to the main square and it isn't long until we're standing in line. Many people stand around us, staring at us in admiration. My dress is much nicer than the majority of the people around here and they know it.

I quickly get my finger pricked and hold the urge to rub it better and then we both head to the seventeen year old section. We stand among a large group of girls and I can't help but notice the amount of whispers that are spreading around us.

"Why are they whispering?" I turn to my other friend who has just appeared, Samantha. Samantha is known for just copying off my styles so it is no surprise when I see she is also wearing a blue dress.

"Probably jealous," she replies looking around at the other girls in the section. I wouldn't be surprised if they were jealous, as I'm obviously a person to be jealous of. I'm beautiful, smart, tough and the master of intimidation. On that note, I suddenly turn towards three girls whispering behind me and they suddenly shut up, pretending that they hadn't been speaking in the first place.

"Attention please, the reaping will now begin," the Mayor suddenly calls over everyone and all the whispers come to a sudden stop. He reads out the treaty of treason quite quickly as if he even wants it over with and then he invites the escort onto the stage, the same from last year.

"Hello District Two, I'm Yero Treytok," his voice is extremely high and this year he has large yellow spikes protruding from his head. "And once again I have had the chance to reap three of you children and take you to the Capitol. Now let's get started with the video all the way from the Capitol." The lights dim and a small screen falls down. Everyone remains quiet as the screen shows a destroyed District Thirteen, small children and adults crying. Then it shows the Capitol bright and happy and then more destruction. It shows the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen and then more destruction and then President Derisse rising from the ashes and finally an addition from last year as it shows Harabel Lucsley push Lars Staal off the hotel, making her victor.

"Very interesting, isn't it?" Yero says loudly. "Now let's reap the District Two male." He slowly walks over to the glass bowl with one single slip at the bottom. His fingers grasp it and he lifts it up, neatly unfolding it. A small smile appears across his face. "I present you with this year's male tribute, Perseus Nelson."

There's some cries from the eighteen year old boys, obviously angry that they didn't get picked and then a boy appears in the isle from the seventeen year olds. I've never seen him before, but he walks up to the stage confidently, like he knew it was going to happen. He has a small smirk plastered on his face and he grabs the microphone as he arrives on the stage. "Don't worry District Two, I'll do you proud."  
Yero almost squeals in delight and then quickly runs over to the second bowl which holds the name of the District Two girl. I perk up a bit this time, making sure to pay more attention. For all I know, the person could be right near me now.

"Elysia Phyre!"

Who?

There's whispers among the crowds now.

"Who is she?"

"I've never heard of her!"

"Is she the girl from the orphanage?"

"She looks strange."

No questions are answered as the girl begins to walk down the isle. She looks even more confident than Perseus. She strides confidently, her hair looks naturally wind-tossed, a beautiful caramel colour and her eyes are a sapphire blue. She's beautiful. How don't I know her?

I'm too busy watching this girl on the stage, the smile still on her face when I hear the name of District Two's extra called.

"Destiny Rose."

Me. How? How did anyone vote for me? Why did anyone vote for me? I'm Destiny Rose, I shouldn't be going into the Hunger Games. Not yet, anyway. I look around at the girls surrounding me and I feel a slight nudge on my shoulder. Amber. She's smiling. Why?

I walk out of the isle and calmly up to the stage. These people voted for me, my friends voted for me. I ascend the steps and quickly shake hands with my fellow tributes before being led into the justice building to say my goodbyes.

I quickly sit down on a sofa and the tears come to my eyes. I wipe them away as soon as Amber rushes into the room, I can't resist and I run over and hug her. However, I'm pushed back and fall to the floor as she stands over me, a smug expression on her face.

"What are you doing?" I whimper.

"Oh, you don't realise."

"Realise what?" I don't understand.

"It was me. I voted for you, I got everyone to vote for you."

"Why?" I ask anger in my voice I suddenly stand up.

"Because you're so far up your own backside that you didn't even realise I was turning everyone against you. You think you're the best, top of the social ladder. Well you're not, you're anything but. And now you're going off to your death, so good luck," her voice is filled with sarcasm and she begins to walk off but I lunge forward and grab her blonde hair. I pull as hard as I can and she falls to the floor.

"I fucking despise you," I scream, kicking her in the face but I'm suddenly pushed back by a peacekeeper. While they detain me, Amber leaves the room. There's blood running down her face but there's a smile on her face all the same at what she has done to me. Why would she do that? I knew I could never trust her. I can't trust anyone ever. I could only trust Grandmother but now she's gone.

"I'm sorry but we can't let anyone else visit you, due to your violence" a peacekeeper says gently before walking out. I can't even speak, I just cry. How could this have happened to me? Maybe Amber was right; am I so far up my own backside that I didn't even notice my best friend plotting against me?

The door creaks open slightly and that girl, Elysia, walks through. "We have to get on the train," she says before quickly walking out. Who is she? How did she get voted to come into the games if practically no-one knows who she is? I guess it's my job to find out.

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**A/N: That's our first reaping. Hope you liked it, what did you think of Perseus, Elysia and Destiny?**

**Thanks to everyone for submitting all the slots are now filled, please favourite or follow the story.**

**Plus please review. It helps me to know which people are following the story and also how my writing is going. Thanks.**


	4. District 5 Reaping

**Thanks for all the reviews for District 2, keep them coming! So here's District Five. Jasmine is from ellsweetella and Lioel is from jakey121. Enjoy!**

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**Jasmine Lia's POV (5):**

I was sold to the pleasure chambers when I was young. At first, I was just a serving girl, pouring tea, clearing the plates, washing the clothes and just helping out in general. I was taught how to read and write; I became quite intelligent. I understand why my Mother had to give me up, she was young - consequentially being unable to look after me - and she made the right choice if she wanted the best for her daughter. She might have sold me to a place that is known for a few prostitutes but I'm not one; I've passed that stage and earned my place. I'm known for pleasuring people, people come to me when they need relaxing. I can play many roles - innocent, mature, sexy, submissive, domineering. You name it, I can do it.

I've had time to practise as well. I'm eighteen and I've been here since a very young age. Of course, I had to work my way up through the ranks. At one point, I was a lowly prostitute but I proved myself too skilled and I moved to the higher ranks of the pleasure chambers. My mothers approved of me and they still do, they know I'm good at the job I have became so used to. They see me as the best out of us all; if a customer comes from the Capitol they are sent straight to me. The main purpose is to relax the customer, make them forget their troubles of the day, but my 'profession' means I've gained enemies. Many wives have become angered at my skills after their husbands have came back seduced by my ways. It isn't my fault, not really. I'm not a bad person, I'm just good at my job. It just happens to be that my job is relaxing people and maybe making them fall for me just a little, although I've had quite a few of the men try it on with me.

I never thought I was actually that good but apparently so, since I've only ever had a few complaints and that was because I attacked the customers after they tried something on with me. My mothers equip me well here, as they've taught me judo and a few other actions so I can easily fend off anyone. I don't normally mind if it's just a peck on the cheek or on the lips, it's when they start to touch my more private parts. It's not what I'm here to do so they have no right to do it.

"Just one last customer," Marianne, my Mother comes into my room and I sigh. "Come on Mist," she says. Mist is the name I use in these chambers as it's deemed more sexy than Jasmine. "Tomorrow you've got the day off for the reaping, just one more customer and then you're done." She smiles once more before leaving the room and a man comes in, wearing casual clothing. He smiles a little then sits down on the bed next to me.

"I've had a long day," he sighs and rests back on the bed.

"Tell me about it," I lie back next to him and begin to twirl my long raven hair in my fingers. "You're like my fourth customer this hour." It's best to try and relate with my customers, that way they feel more comfortable with me being with them.

"Bet you haven't had someone as good looking as me today," he says cheekily, and then he laughs a little at his joke. I take the time to look at his facial features. He has dark brown hair and his stubble is styled in a peculiar way. I'd say he was from the Capitol but he doesn't have any piercings or different colours stenciled on him like most of the people there.

"Of course not," I whisper into his ear, and then rest my head on his stomach that rumbles gently. "Tell me about yourself."

"I'm a peacekeeper," he says. No wonder Marianne wanted me to do this appointment; if we didn't accept his appointment they'd probably get us done for prostitution. I don't reply so he carries on. "I've had to whip a bunch of kids today for stealing some bread from the bakery but one of them was my wife's sister's son. My wife isn't happy with me.." It's no surprise to me that he has a wife, as most peacekeepers do. They come to me when they have troubles in their marriage. They think the only way through it is to speak to another woman. Normally it means the wife hates me but what do I care? I'm happily protected in the chambers. They wouldn't be able to do anything to me if they tried.

"It's only your job," I say, trying to side with him.

"That's what I said but she says family comes first," he begins to sound angry so I place his arm around my shoulder. This seems to soothe him a little and for a few minutes we just sit in silence.

"Where does she think you are now?"

"I told her I was going for a walk."

"Will you tell her the truth?" I ask.

"Only if the guilt takes me over, but for now it's not," he wraps his other arm around me and I let my eyelids fold over. I almost fall asleep to the rumble of his stomach until I hear the familiar bell ring out that signals his time is up. I give him a soft peck on the cheek and he smiles gently.

"Thank you," he says before walking out of the room. I didn't do much but I guess I don't have to now. Most customers are just happy with me being there whilst they talk about their worries. They just need someone there for them and that's what I can do. I'm loving and friendly and I resist from getting angry with them if they've done something wrong. After all, if I do something wrong then Marianne punishes me.

Speaking of the devil, Marianne walks in with a large smile on her face and a large amount of cash in her hand.

"Well done, he was very pleased and he seemed much more relaxed than when he first went in" she says, sitting down on the bed next to me.

"I seem to have that effect on people," I reply, yawning.

"I know you do," she laughs. "Anyway I've got some good news for you. Actually, I've been hiding it from you all day."

"Really? What is it?"

"You're wanted in the Capitol after the reaping," she says suddenly embracing me.

"What? Really?" I practically scream while holding her. The Capitol means a whole new adventure, better food, luxurious buildings. Everything I've ever wanted, to sum it up in a sentence.

"You'll be allowed to go there every now and again," she says while pulling out of the hug, a smile still fresh on her face. "Now I think you'd better head off to bed. You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow, but I'll be telling you all of the information you need tomorrow morning" she exits the room quite quickly and I slip under my covers, not bothering to change.

I can't believe this. I'll have to tell Lily tomorrow morning. Lily being my best friend, of course. She had to sell herself to the pleasure chambers when she was just a young girl; she needed to provide for her family and any money Lily makes is sent to her family. No money is sent to my family but that's because I don't know who my family is. I guess I don't want to know who my family is; I'd have two families then and at the moment I'm quite content with one. Maybe when I'm older I'll try and find my Mother. Maybe then I'll be able to tell her of all my trips to the Capitol, as I'll be famous by then.

Famous. Imagine that. Not many people from the districts become famous, because it's normally the Capitolites that become successful with all their ridiculous fashion choices and their beauty. I'd like to think I'm quite beautiful myself; I don't think I'd get many customers if I was ugly. Many people have commented on how I look and some of the more perverted customers have commented on my double D boobs.

My thoughts trail away after about half an hour, I manage to relax myself and soon only one thought runs through my head.

Tomorrow is reaping day. What was the twist again?

_'To remind the districts of the past and how they will never overcome it, the twist will be a repeat on the first quarter quell, as the district will vote for their own tributes with the girl and boy with the highest votes becoming tributes.'_

I'm hated by many. All those women I've ruined the relationships of. All those kids who've had their fathers taken away from them. All because of me and my seductive ways...It all sounds so bad now, because I've indirectly ruined people's lives.

What if they decide they want to ruin mine? I've had hundreds of customers. That means hundreds of votes, and they'll tell their friends and they'll vote for me.

I'm doomed. The only Capitol trip I'll be making is for the Hunger Games. A game of death.

I stand no chance.

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**Lioel Rayne's POV (5):**

"I'm just going to go for a walk before the reaping starts," I yell to my Mother as I walk towards the door and put on my black reaping shoes.

"Oh, okay. Good luck," she answers, suddenly comes rushing through the house and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I laugh and rub the wetness off before muttering my thanks and exiting the building. It isn't a particularly big building but it manages to accommodate the two of us. We get through life just fine. Well, apart from the bullying.

It doesn't take me long until I reach the house. It isn't just any house of course. It's a house full of memories. Memories of my Dad, memories of the many deceased. Memories of when the bullying first started and my life was condemned to pure hell.

I push the door open easily; it isn't locked, although that's hardly a surprise since it never seems to be. It certainly wasn't locked when my Mother and Father broke in and it wasn't locked when they went to steal the food. I like to say they were only trying to protect me, only trying to feed me, only trying to keep me alive. They stole for good reason I guess, but in the process they ruined a whole family. I continue through the house; I know it so well now as I've been here so many times. It's to nobody's surprise that I know where I'm going straight away. Pushing through the door, I enter the room, noting how the inside is charred and blackened. I don't think it used to be like this, but the fire changed that. The fire my parents started.

My eyes glance over to the fireplace. Why must they have been so reckless when they were escaping? I'm sure Father didn't mean to knock the wood and spread the fire. I'm sure he didn't mean to send the house up in flames but that doesn't change the fact he killed the family. A Mother, a Father and three children. All dead. All because of my Father. My Father was killed himself shortly afterwards by being executed in the town square. That was when the bullying started. I was only seven but that didn't stop the older boys from pushing me around. That didn't stop them punching, kicking and threatening me. I could never stand up for myself and I still can't now.

They always said it was me. They always said I killed them, they always said I was the dirty, stealing thief even though I've never stolen anything once. Mother always told me not to. She always said it was for the best, she always said it would only get me into trouble. She's been lucky herself, lucky that she wasn't executed along with Father, that is. She just pretended she was never there and so she was just given a warning. She still steals now though; we have to eat.

I kneel down next to the fireplace and just lean back, breathing in the familiar fragrance that fills the place and for minutes - or maybe even hours - I just sit there, thinking. What would my life be like if Father had never caused that fire? Would I never have been bullied? Would I have resorted to stealing by then? I can't help but feel everything would be so much better, if only Father hadn't spread the fire. It hurts to blame it on him but who else do I have to blame? Myself? Maybe the bullies just hate me anyway. Maybe I have one of those personalities that people can't get along with. It seems that way. I mean, what friends do I have? None that I can see.

It's hard making friends when everyone is constantly spreading rumours about you. I remember last year when a new kid came to school. He was kind, intelligent, an inventor of sorts, just like me. I thought it was my chance to make a friend. I was happy for once. I was even smiling at the prospect of a new friend.

Then they ruined it by telling him everything. They told him that I started the fire and killed five people and so the boy hated me and turned into one of the bullies like everyone else. They always do in the end, they always have the reason to hate me. I seem to have no choice in the matter.

I'm lying on the floor when I hear the mutterings and the creak of the door. Confusion takes over my thoughts as I quickly back myself up against the fireplace. Why are people here? People never come here. I don't even have time to escape, I don't have anywhere to go. I only manage to make it to the remains of the back door before someone comes through the room.

"Lioel," the voice terrifies me when I hear it and I have no choice but to turn around. I choose not to speak, deciding to just stare at him instead. The boy who has tormented me for years stands there, watching me back. It's no surprise when he speaks first. "What brings you here, Lioel? Finally regretting your decisions?"

"I have nothing to regret," I reply.

"Oh, so you don't regret killing them," he quickly rebounds, and soon two of his cronies come into the room with him.

"No that's not what I meant-"

"We know what you meant, sicko," he says, shaking his head. "You've always been wrong in the head. How old were you when you set the house on fire? Seven? Eight? And then you made your poor Dad take the blame. I wouldn't be surprised if you threatened him-"

"Stop it!" I yell.

"Stop what? Telling the truth?"

"It's all lies!" I scream, suddenly beginning to fumble at the back door as he begins to walk towards me. It's to no avail though; it doesn't budge. "Why are you here anyway?" I say, turning around, defeated.

"Your bitch of a Mother told me where you were," he says, walking that extra bit closer. I'm just about to speak when the familiar bell to signal the reaping is starting rings. In that single moment he is distracted, I push past him and run out of the house before any of the other two can do anything about it.

I sprint down the streets, breathing heavily until I finally reach the waiting line. Of course, the whispers spread around me and I just bow my head in shame as the line shrinks. After several minutes of the words 'thief' and 'murderer' ringing around in my ears, I get my finger pricked and head to the sixteen year old section, making sure to stand in the corner far away from everyone else. Right now I can't be bothered with the whispers, I can't be bothered with anything. The bullies know where I go now, so I'll have to find somewhere else to gather my thoughts. I can't stay at home, Mother frets about me too much. She'll ask questions about why I never go out with my 'friends' anymore. To pacify her, I always tell her I'm going out with my friends when really I'm just going to the charcoal house to grieve for that dead family and my Father. For me, it's the only good way to get through my torture, but now that's getting taken away as well.

I don't listen to what the Mayor is saying and I only begin to pay attention when the escort walks onto the stage. We've got a new escort this year, after last year's escort was kind of chained to the stage.

"Jasmine Lia," it seems the escort doesn't hesitate in choosing as she yells the name loudly and a large gasp comes from out of the girl's section. I don't look at her, I don't want to look at her. Why would I want to look at a girl who is going to die? I don't like the Hunger Games so I just pretend they don't exist.

I don't recognise the name and I don't know why our district has picked her, I don't want to know. She's probably just an average girl; she'll have done nothing wrong, just like I've done nothing wrong.

"Lioel Rayne."

It doesn't shock me because I expected it. I know many people hate me, many people think I murdered poor, innocent children so what's a better way to get rid of me than to send me to the Hunger Games? I don't look at anyone, choosing to look straight ahead and push myself angrily out of my section.

"Murderer." The first person speaks up and it causes a wave of insults to follow. Many are thrown my way but I look straight ahead. Reaching the stage, I shake the girl's hand. This time I look at her though. Oh my, she's beautiful. She keeps a clear face and soon we are taken into the justice building and into separate rooms to say our goodbyes.

"I'm so sorry," my Mother bursts in, crying her eyes out. "This is all my fault, I've brought this on you, right? I heard the whispers, they all think you're a thief like me." She kneels down on the floor in front of me and cries, tears streaking down her face. Eventually, I cry with her until she is dragged out kicking and screaming by the peacekeepers. Silence.

So for me, this is the beginning of the end.

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**A/N: I enjoyed writing these tributes so I hope you enjoyed reading them. So tell me what you thought of Lioel and Jasmine in a review. Please review it helps me to know who's following the story and also to know what you think of my writing.**

**And make sure to favourite or follow!**


	5. District 1 Reaping

**I'm sorry for not updating in ages but I've been very busy. So I'm back with District One. We have Io Corteau from Sovereign2, Alec Virrell from peace and joyce and Velvet Marble from Queen of the Type Writers. Thank you for submitting. Enjoy.**

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**Io Corteau's POV (1):**

"Come on Io, give me a chance," the boy standing in front of me suddenly winks at me. Ew. What is wrong with this kid, does he honestly think I would dare give him a chance? He's putrid, he talks to me like I'm an object to use, while really all women and better than men. Men are the scum of the earth, and I would say there is only about four of the inferior species I can actually put up with. I don't get women that decide to start a relationship with them, they'll only end up rubbing off some of their stupidity onto them.

"Don't speak to me," I say pursing my lips in disgust and turning around. I'm already walking back down the street when I feel a sudden nip on my arm. I quickly turn around and slap the boy straight across the jaw, to which he quickly backs away. "Don't you ever touch me again."

"Don't worry I won't," the boy keeps his hand connected to his cheek and begins to walk away without hesitation. Seriously, men need to understand I don't want them. Why would I? I'm happy enough without them, I don't need them. I live in the upper class of District One, it's not like I'm going to need a job when I'm older anyway. By that time I'll have won the Hunger Games, I'll be bathing in the glory and the riches in my mansion in victor's village. In fact I'll have victor's village all to myself until another victor comes along. District One failed miserably last year but I'm here to renew our reputation. I've watched past tapes of the Hunger Games, before the second rebellion, and I've seen that District One tended to dominate the games. We produced many a victor, but all of them were wiped out during the rebellion.

I make my way round the corner of the street I was passing and I come face to face with the most majestic building I have ever set my eyes on. Venus Training Centre. Not many of us have managed to make it into this training centre, only the best. Of course, I am the best.

I push through the doors and soon make my way into the main room where a bunch of my friends are chattering idly. Probably about who they think will be picked for the games tomorrow, me obviously. Next to my group of friends is the one of three boys who attend this centre. One of the few boys that I can actually tolerate, along with my Father and brother. Skull has next to no friends that are male, in fact Skull has hardly any friends at all. All he is bothered about is training. I admire his determination and skill, he is far superior compared to any other boys. Any other boys are practically useless, I don't understand why they swoon over me like they actually stand a chance. It's disgusting but maybe in the arena I could use my beauty to my advantage. Trick the boys into falling for me then stabbing them in the back literally.

"I've voted for you," I say punching him lightly on the arm. Skull, like me, has been campaigning to enter the games this year. The two of us have asked many people if they will vote for us. Many have abided while others have just turned their heads in disdain, obviously wanting to go into the games themselves. I've even had to speak to some boys to get them to vote. Anything to go into the games.

"Thanks, I've voted for you," his voice is very gruff and he doesn't look at me when he speaks. In stead he stares towards the floor twiddling his fingers slightly. I don't know much about Skull. I know he hasn't had the best start in life but I know that it hasn't affected him from doing well in training. That's why I like him, he doesn't let whatever has happened to him in life affect him and he's honest. He wouldn't lie to you and if he doesn't like you, he tells you.

"Do you think I have a good chance of getting in?" I ask.

"Probably, not many have had a good campaign going like you," he says a small smile gracing his face. Of course, no-one else has climbed to the top of the statue in the town centre and proclaimed that everyone should vote for me. No-one else has had their parents personally go to the mayor's house and asked if their whole family would vote for me. No-one else has paid for a billboard that has been attached to my house.

Need I go on?

Our small conversation is interrupted as Venus Enoya, the head trainer walks through the doors. Her posture is fantastic, her beauty is outstanding, she is an excellent trainer, she is definitely someone to aspire to.

"Welcome class," she addresses us like a teacher would in school. I dropped school a last year though, figuring it was useless if I wanted to become the victor of the Hunger Games. "Tomorrow is the reaping, and I expect two of you will be chosen," I notice her eyes trail to me. She knows I'm the best. "So today I'd like you to focus on your best weapons. I'll pair you up. Skull and Bliss." Skull shrugs his shoulders slightly before walking over to the girl. "Joyce and Emerald. Diamond and Violet. Charm and Io..." I zone out as soon as I hear my name and I look towards Charm, my best friend.

She quickly rushes over to me and wraps her arms around me. Charm is basically my sister, we do everything together and we've known each other since we were four. Since the games came back a few years ago we both started to train together and of course we both got moved to this training centre. The only difference between us is that while I want to go into the games, Charm doesn't. It's not that she doesn't think she could win, because she'd win easily. It's because she's scared of death. After watching one of her friends, Joanie Greenwood, get tore apart last year in the bloodbath she became scared.

"So what do you want to do?" she asks, always the polite one.

"Whips, if that's okay with you?" I say already walking over to the whip station. The one at this training centre is quite harmless to say the least but back at home I moderated one slightly.. all I did was add a sharp steel blade and some thorns, nothing too harmful.

"Of course," she replies jumping over to the station. It doesn't take long before we both have a whip in our hands. I lunge forward at the dummy and the whip cracks of it's skull leaving an indent. This goes on for sometime as I twist and turn hitting the dummy in any possible place until a voice interrupts me, a whisper in my ear.

"Do you think you'll get picked?" I turn around to see Venus. She takes the whip out of my hand and begins to throw it to the side before startling me and whipping it in my direction. I react quickly, jumping out the way and she smiles. "You would do well."

"Of course I will."

"You reflect confidence girl, everything about you. You're a victor in the making."

"I know I am."

"That's what I like to hear," she winks at me before walking off.

"What was that about?" another girl's voice suddenly asks. I turn around to see Violet Winter. This girl isn't worthy of my attention. She's only in this training centre because of her Dad, and she knows it. Everyone knows the head peacekeeper of our district, Peacekeeper Winter.

"Nothing," I say turning my nose up and walking back towards Charm.

"Well it must have been about something, Venus never speaks to people in person like that," her voice grates on me and it takes all my might not to turn around and slap her. In stead I don't even turn around, as I said this girl does not deserve my attention. She's done nothing to prove to me she should be in my group of friends. "Quite ignorant really, aren't you?" her voice turns sour and childish.

"You're only in here because of your Dad," the words escape my mouth without my permission but I instantly feel relieved once they have.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard what I said. It's not as if you are actually good at training."

"You're such a bitch," she suddenly screams and this time I can't resist. I turn around and grab hold her, pushing her to the floor instantly.

"Stay away from me," I spit before turning around and heading towards a different station.

It's best not to spend time with people who are not worthy of my attention. She's just like the men, worthless and inferior to me. Most people are.

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**Alec Virrell's POV (1):**

The chatter from my parents floats up the stairs towards me as I slowly make my way out of my room. Today's the day. The day I'll find out whether I have been picked for the Hunger Games, and if I haven't they'll be a price to pay for many people. This is my last eligible year, my last chance. If I'm not picked then I'll never get to fulfil my ambition, and what a waste of my life that would be. It's what I've trained to do since the games came back and even before then I had watched old games, I hoped and hoped for them to come back and eventually they did.

"Alec, down here!" Croyl calls down the stairs. Croyl's my Dad but I feel no need to call him that, he doesn't call me son; he calls me Alec, so why should I call him Dad or Father? I quickly pull on my dressing gown from the floor and jump down the stairs two steps at a time until I'm standing in the kitchen. Our luxurious kitchen that is, I do belong to quite a rich family and we live in a superb house.

"Sit," Mali, my mother, instructs me. I happily sit down on the spare chair provided and stare into her blue eyes. "Your Father tells me you want to get picked for the games," she says this with anger laced in her voice.

Who does she think she is to question my motives? Stupid woman.

"What's not a better way to show my strength, bravery and to bring honour to my district," I say a small smile on my face. I've always been good with words, I can manipulate my way out of a difficult situation and I would consider myself quite a smooth talker.

"I don't see how you expect to get picked anyway," she replies beginning to poke her mashed potato with her fork.

"Mali, you know how to eat properly," Croyl suddenly shouts at her as she unpolitely stuffs some food into her mouth. I shake my head in disgust and she quickly picks up her knife and fork. Mali is quite a strange woman. She abides to everything I say even though I'm about thirty years younger than her, she's always listened to what me and Croyl say, it's just how things are in this house. This male dominated house.

"I will get picked, don't you worry," I say finally picking up my knife and fork and eating one mouthful at a time. Of course, I eat with my mouth closed and I make sure to keep my serviette placed neatly on my legs.

"I'm more nervous about you getting picked than about you not getting picked," she talks with food still in her mouth.

"I'm not listening to you if you continue to possess such bad manners," I turn towards Croyl and begin to talk, effectively blocking Mali out of the conversation. "So Croyl, how are you this fine day?" I make sure to look towards the window where sunlight streams through lighting up the room.

"I'm quite well thank you," he places his knife and fork together on the plate and wipes his mouth with the serviette provided before standing up and tucking in his chair. I'd like to say I took my good manners off him but

I'm pretty sure he's only got good manners because of me. "Well, excuse me but I must leave to get ready for the reaping. An important man has important jobs to do, you know. I'll see you in the justice building," he says winking at me before leaving the room and heading upstairs.

"That's if you get picked," Mali mutters under her breath. I send her a patronising glare and she quickly picks up her plate and begins to wash up.

"I assume Croyl made this," I state to which she nods her head slowly. "I'll make sure to thank him later." I walk out of the room without a goodbye and head straight up the stairs. Only minutes later I stand in front of my mirror in my shirt and black trousers. I'm not too bothered what I look like, unlike the majority of this district. In stead I prefer to perfect my etiquette and status in the district. Of course I'm already quite popular, it's not a secret that people look up to me in awe. I'm just that type of person that people aspire to be, it's in my nature.

I'm distracted from slipping on my shoes as I hear a short thud at the door. I quickly rush down the stairs and fling the door open to see one of the rich kids standing there. Their name has escaped me but to say that would be rude and arrogant. He asks me if I want to come out with him before the reaping so I close the door behind me and head outside.

"I thought we'd help the peacekeepers put up the stage," the kid says, his voice a mere croak. Is he being serious? Why would I want to help the peacekeepers put up the stage? They've probably already got it up anyway. Why did I ever agree to even leave the house with this kid?

"I wanted to get some last minute training in," I reply smiling slightly.

"Why?" Is this kid thick? Come to think of it who the hell is he? I'm pretty sure I've only spoke to him once before and that was to threaten him to vote for me.

"Because I'm going to get picked," I say this slowly and clearly so that he understands.

"Oh, I thought you were only joking about that," he fades away.

"But you voted for me," I say in assurance.

"Erm, maybe, I c-can't remember," his voice turns mouse-like.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to kill you if I don't get picked," I say this patronisingly but politely all the same. The kid takes one last look at me before sprinting off. I try not to think about how that idiot didn't vote for me and in stead I head towards the main training centre in my part of town. It's nothing special like Venus Training but if you want to show off your skills to more than about ten kids then this is the place that you have to go and since I want people to vote for me I want to show off my skills. So it is quite a surprise to me when I walk through the door and there is about twenty people in.

"Where is everyone?" I shout to get everyone's attention. A few people look at me but most just continue to train. Come to think of it why are some of these people training anyway, I can't remember any of them asking anyone to vote for them this year. There's only been about ten people properly campaigning to get votes, quite a few people just assume they'll get votes anyway.

"It's reaping day what do you expect," a voice suddenly calls to me and my eyes divert to Chandy Rotella, what a dick. Everyone knows Chandy, the district's player. Heaven knows how many girls he sleeps with a week, even now he's got some girl wearing practically nothing standing next to him.

"Then why are you kindly gracing us with your presence?" I shout back beginning to walk towards him.

"Last minute training ain't going to do me any harm," he replies dropping his sword as I come within metres of him.

"You say that as if you think you may get picked," I say frowning. "While that position as tribute is sure to be taken by me."

"We'll see, fancy a dual?" he picks up his sword and points it towards a sword next to me.

"Of course," I say placing the sword and running the blade through my fingers. I've always been quite amazing with a sword, it's like my arm and the sword are connected. I bow politely and as does he before we both stand up. I place the sword by my side and he quickly jabs the sword towards me I block easily and push back as hard as I can causing him to fall onto his back. The shock on his face is evident and I shove the sword towards his stomach but he has good reflexes as he rolls to one side and I fall to the floor as my sword does.

He swipes his sword towards my defenceless torso but I roll to the side and swing my leg out. He falls to the floor in a heap and I jump on top of him holding his sword up against his neck.

"You win," he says pushing me off angrily and walking straight towards the door of the training centre. The stupid girl runs after him asking if he's alright but he just pushes her away.

"Looks like I'd be the better contender, then?" I shout looking around to all the other trainees. They know I'm the best contender and unless they're mentally unstable they'll know that they should have voted for me if they want a victor this year.

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**Velvet Marble's POV (1):**

"You know I have influence Velvet," my grandfather, also known as District 1's sad excuse for a mayor walks into the room smiling. I choose not to reply, in stead I glare at him. I might be afraid of him but that doesn't stop me from displaying my true feelings towards him. After all it is his fault my Mother is dead. "Well, I do have influence," he carries on realising that I chose not to reply to him. "So, I decided it was about time I put the influence I have to good use. Do you see where I'm going?"

"No," I reply bluntly turning around back to the TV so I don't have to look at him.

"Really?" he asks and suddenly his hand appears on my shoulder sending a cold shiver through my body. Get your hand off me. How dare he touch me after all he's done. "I thought you were clever V.V."

"Don't call me that, that's a nickname for my friends to use," I spit at him quickly moving from where I am and moving over to the other side of the room.

"I thought we were friends," he replies mockingly sounding sad.

"Stop being so childish and get on with whatever you wanted to say."

"But what was I saying?" he replies cocking his head to one side. I'll never understand this man, he's always trying to confuse me, always trying to scare me. Sometimes I find it hard to believe he is even real, he does not act like a human should. He changes constantly although he is never nice, only mean in different ways.

"Stop trying to confuse me," I reply.

"I'm not trying to confuse anyone, Clos."

"There you're doing it again," I screech. He always does this and for some reason I fall for it everytime and at the end I am left in tears or locked in my room. I'm a strong girl, after all I have trained but my emotions are a wreck, all down to him.

"Velvet, calm down please," he says furrowing his eyebrows.

"Who am I?" I scream. "Velvet or Clos? I don't understand you, what on earth is wrong with you?" Why is he doing this? He's hellbent on ruining my life. I just don't understand. Suddenly there's a loud bang indicating the front door has been closed and Clos, my twin brother walks in, sweat making his tanned skin gleam.

"Me and Velvet were just talking about influence," my grandfather suddenly says very politely. "Perhaps you could use your influence to teach Velvet how to behave properly, she's been shouting on again.."

"Clos, he's demented, don't listen to him," I say quickly trying to defend myself. Grandfather always tries to turn Clos on me and the results are varied. Sometimes Clos realises I have done nothing wrong so just doesn't say anything but other times he sides with grandfather, clearly trying to get on his side. He always has, he's always trained harder, always aspired to be the best of the best.

"Velvet, you know not to shout," Clos says sitting down on the couch across from me.

"Precisely what I thought," my grandfather says shaking his head and walking out of the room.

"Do you not understand?" I whisper trying to catch Clos' attention. "He's wrong in the head, he's trying to break me.. I'll be surprised if he doesn't kill me," I go even quieter as I speak my next words, "just like he killed

Mother.."

Clos suddenly lunges forward and grabs hold of my top. "Do you want a death sentence? Because that's what you'll be getting if you continue to speak like that. He's killed before, you know that, he won't be afraid to kill again."

"I just want to run away," I hold my head in my hands, hoping for at least some sympathy from Clos but I get none. I take one last look at him before darting out of the house before anyone can stop me - not that they would. I don't belong in such a household, my grandfather is a nutcase and his only concern for me is that I'm training properly. I never wanted to fucking train in the first place, it's a waste of time. What's the point of training when I know for a fact I won't get picked?

It doesn't take long before I reach the town square and already many of our citizens have began to gather. I steadily get my hand pricked and wait in my section. Alone. I do have friends, I have plenty in fact but I'm not a very sociable person and even when I'm with my friends I talk little. So for about twenty minutes I stand and wait until a new escort from the last year comes leaping onto the stage. I don't pay attention to them, there's no point, they're not making any difference to my life.

I keep my head down until I hear the first name called.

"Io Corteau!"

There's a sudden shriek as the girl next to me leaps up into the air in triumph. She hugs me enthusiastically but I keep my arms by my side. I don't have a clue who this girl is but she's clearly trying to put on some kind of act by hugging me. She continues to hug quite a few people around her before running towards the stage.

"You won't regret this District One!" she shouts before smiling brightly at the escort.

"And our male tribute is... Alec Virrell."

This time there is a lot less commotion as the boy strides up to the stage emitting confidence.

"What a surprise," he says sarcastically before standing next to Io and eyeing her up.

"Okay District One, just one more tribute," our escort makes her way to the 'extra' bowl and quickly picks the slip of paper from the bottom.

"Velvet Marble!"

Did I just hear that properly? I can't have, there's obviously someone else with a similar sounding name to me. I remain stood in my position but slowly eyes begin to turn towards me and I feel rough hands wrap around my arms. This can't be happening!

"NO," I screech and slam my fist into one of the peacekeeper's faces. The other grabs both my arms behind my back and pushes me onto the stage where I am forced to stand and shake hands with my fellow tributes.

"Congratulations," my escort announces before pushing me into the waiting room for my goodbyes.

I don't understand. How have I been voted for? Why have I been voted for? It's not like I'm one of the best at training in the district.. I didn't do any campaigns. My mind goes completely blank until I hear an evil chuckle outside and my grandfather walks into the room quite casually. I decide to stay still, he doesn't love me anyway, why is he here? To say one last goodbye.

"Remember when I said I had influence?" he asks and suddenly everything becomes clear.

"You voted me in," I say slowly, making sure I'm right.

"Why, of course."

"Why would you even do that?" my voice picks up but I feel restrained to stay in my seat.

"Because I have influence and I wanted you to go in the games," he says almost as if it's common sense. This time I can't restrain myself, I leap out of the chair and claw my fingernails down his pathetic face. I feel his blood run down my fingers and suddenly a peacekeeper pushes me back to the floor and I see no more of my grandfather.

"Let me see Clos," I screech.

"I'm sorry but you've broken basic rules, I'll be escorting you onto the train immediately." So I'll never see my brother again, I'll never know what he thought about me being reaped and I'll never know how my grandfather is going to treat him.

A grandfather that never loved me but in stead sent me to my death.

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**A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed reading it, and that's the third district down. District 6 should hopefully be up soon. **

**Please favourite/follow so you can keep up with the story and also please leave a review as reviews help me to know which submitters are reading and not reading, plus it's great to see what you think of the tributes. **

**Thank you for reading.**


	6. District 9 Reaping

**Hello, I'm back with the district 9 reapings. We have Rhyl, our female, from SafeEyesOpen and Emmit, our male, from Bumbleebee123. Enjoy.**

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**Rhyl Phae's POV (9):**

_"Rhyl, your hair is such a mess today," I turn around to see my 'friend', Anabel but as soon as I turn around I feel a harsh tug on it and I'm pulled to the ground._

_"Oops, I didn't mean to Rhyl," my other 'friend', Anastasia, remarks and then 'accidentally' stands on my dress._

_"Isn't Rhyl such a disgusting name?" someone else says as I try to get back up onto my feet. "It reminds me of 'vile', it reminds me of sick. Just like the colour of little Rhyl's hair."_

_Why must they taunt me so much? What did I ever do to them?_

_"She deserves it, man," Anabel says as I stumble onto my feet, my knees heavily grazed. "She deserves everything she gets in life," she adds reminding me of him. Him. No-one knows about him. No-one but grandma and grand-dad. He's dead now though, it's fine. He can't abuse me anymore._

_I suddenly vomit on the floor and a chorus of insults are thrown at me. What even made me befriend these girls?_

I wake up coughing and spluttering all over my bed sheets. Why did I dream that? Those memories are long gone.

I hear someone running up the stairs madly and suddenly my little brother, Zache, bounds into the room, giggling hysterically. A small grin spreads across his face and I only have enough time to shield myself with a pillow before he leaps onto my bed and begins to smother me with the quilt. I don't think Zache realises that the objective of a pillow fight is to hit each other with pillows - not to smother each other with quilts. However, I manage to get out from under the quilt and smack Zache on the head with the pillow but the hit is harder than I expected and he tumbles off the bed, hitting the wooden floor.

Quickly enough I hear him crying and I'm forced to go and help him up. Just as I'm about to pick him up though his facial expression changes suddenly and he screams wildly, beginning to tickle me. I kick my feet out to try and get him off me. How many times have I told him that if someone tickles me, I am not responsible for their injuries. Somehow, at the mere age of eleven years old, he can pin me down and continue to tickle me until we hear my Mother call from downstairs, announcing that breakfast was ready.

"I'll race you," Zache says childishly. Without replying, I dart out of the room and down the stairs until I'm sitting at the table in the kitchen. Zache comes racing in seconds after and holds his hand out to give a handshake. Just as I'm about to shake back, he pulls it away and pulls a funny face at me.

"Rhyl," I suddenly hear my Mother's voice as she places my cereal down on the table. "You really need to grow up. When I was fourteen, I was out working and here you are playing races with your brother."

"We had a pillow fight as well," Zache quickly jumps in. Thanks Zache.

"Precisely what I mean Rhyl; you need to start growing up," she scolds. "I want you two to stay young, but as time goes on Rhyl, you need to start acting your age."

"Why do you always try to start an argument with me?" I ask.

"How dare you!" she replies, snatching my cereal off me and pouring it into the bin.

"And now you're wasting food, good one," I call back, folding my arms and looking at her in disgust. It's people like Mother who don't let me be the person I want to be. I want to forget my past and move on, I want to be the happy, optimistic, energetic girl I am but it seems I'm not allowed. Not only does Mother think it's wrong but half the district does. What's so wrong with being different? Everybody's unique and I'm just an example of that.

"You should be eating food with more iron in anyway. Have you even had your pill recently?" she asks, but instead of answering I storm over to the cupboard and take out one of my pills. Unfortunately I'm anaemic and I have vasovagal response. That would be why I faint and throw up a lot and that would be why my old 'friends' always used to liken me to the green substance.

"Taken it," I answer in an overly perky voice (just to annoy her) before heading back to my seat.

"You're not going to get anyway in life with an attitude like that," she says and before an argument kicks off, Zache quickly leaves the room. "Zache come back darling, we're not arguing," my Mother calls after him but the rest of the house stays silent.

"Where's Dad?"

"He said he'd help set up the reaping to get some money in," she replies, continuing to wash up the dishes. I would offer to help but to be honest I don't want to be in her good books. I'm about to head out of the kitchen when there is a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," I say cheerfully before skipping over to the door. I open it up to reveal Rosalin. "If it isn't my twin Rosalin," I remark before inviting her into the house. Mother seems to have departed the kitchen so we sit down at the table and chat idly.

"So, how are you?" Rosalin asks.

"Better than normal, I seem to be getting over things," I say pulling up my sleeve to reveal no new scratches. I'm not much of a self harmer; I've never drawn blood and I never want to but when I remember my Uncle and what he did to me, when I remember those 'friends' and how they used me, my anger just takes over and I just want to attack something. That something is usually my arms, the pain of my nails or the staple remover scraping up my arm takes the pain of my memories away.

"Same," she smiles pulling up her sleeve and just like mine there is no new scratches. Unfortunately, Rosalin has been through a similar experience to me and that's why we first became friends. After I stopped seeing my old 'friends' I used to just hang out at the park by myself. Everyone thinks I'm nice and kind but no-one want to hang out with me, no-one wants to hang out with the strange kid. That was until Rosalin came along and sat on the swing opposite me.

We shared our tales from there of our abuse and of our depression and together we've got through it.

"I'm worried about the reaping though," she suddenly confides in me.

"Oh, you'll be fine Rosalin," I reply a smile on my face as always.

"I'm afraid they'll vote for us because there's no-one else to vote for. Because we're different, unique.."

"Strange," I add.

"And you know what one of District Nine's slogans is.."

"Luck will work in the strangest of ways..."

* * *

**Emmit Cottonbe's POV (9):**

"We need some more food," I sigh scraping some breadcrumbs out of the bottom of the packet. Rowan just looks at me and yawns loudly before throwing the can at me. "No Rowan, please I don't want to use the can, I look like such a scavenger when I use it," I say rolling it back towards him.

"We look like scavengers anyway, look around you," he exclaims before yawning, again. "Look at the clothes you're wearing, if you want to stop looking like a scavenger you're going to have to use the can."

"Why can't you? You're meant to be the 'older brother' protecting me," I debate.

"Emmit, just do what I say," he says, picking up the can again and throwing it at me quite violently.

"Woah," I say as the can hits my shoulder, "someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Quite ironic really since we don't even have beds. I tuck away my blanket into my backpack and walk to the front street. I sit down with my can and just simply rattle it while trying to look as sad as I can. I despise doing this but what other way do I have of getting money? Anyway, the rich are always shopping down this street and there will be many people today shopping for their after-reaping meal, while I'll be lucky if I have a meal today at all.

At first there is practically no-one and anyone that does walk past just glares at me before moving on until an old woman and a young man walk down the street dressed very neatly. I begin to rattle my can against my knuckles and I suddenly hear the old woman's voice perk up.

"What's that noise, Stanley?" she says looking around, she must be blind.

"Just one of those scavengers," Stanley replies and the old woman suddenly thumps him on the arm.

"Don't talk about people like that Stanley, how would you like it if you were in their situation? Now give whoever it is some money!" she shouts quite angrily. "Open my purse actually and give them enough money for a loaf of bread." A loaf of bread. I've never had one of them since the fire, since I started living on the streets, I've only ever had the occasional bun or some burnt bread from the bins outside. My eyes light up like a little child and the man walks over and drops about ten coins into the can.

"Thank you so much," I say standing up and sprinting down the front street until I come to the bakers. I sprint to the counter and soon someone comes.

"What do you want son?"

"Could I have a loaf of bread please?" I ask as politely as I can. She looks at me quite strangely up and down like I don't belong in this shop.

"Do you know how much a loaf of bread is?" she asks, raising one eyebrow.

"Erm, no but I have this much," I say pouring the coins out of the can and onto the counter. She looks at the coins in shock and then back to me.

"Well then," she says taking about four of the coins and handing me back the others and a load of bread.

"Thank you," I reply darting out of the shop, eager to tell Rowan of my success. I run down different back alleys until I get to the one we stayed in last night.

Rowan sits there and his face lights up when he sees the loaf of bread. "How on earth did you get that?"

"I used the can," I reply and no more words are shared as we rip open the packet and tear the bread apart. The texture is beautiful in my mouth, I've never tasted something so beautiful. We slowly work through the loaf until there is about half of it left which we decide to leave for later.

"You know I was thinking Emmit," Rowan says before swallowing the rest of his slice, "I should apply to work in the fields. I mean last time they said no because they didn't need anyone else but I'm sure they'll be happy for some extra help. Then maybe we'll be able to get a small bungalow or something and we won't have to use this stupid can."

"We'll be able to buy our own food..."

"And then when you're past your last reaping in a few years you'll be able to get a job as well," he adds on.

"Maybe we should be heading off to the reaping now," I reply tucking the loaf of bread into my backpack and tucking it all into the shadows of the building we're next to. Rowan nods his head and together we walk out of our alley and back onto the front street. The whole place is crowded by children and adults walking to the reaping. Many families are pretty silent but there is the few that are still nervous. This year people know they won't get reaped because people won't vote for them but then there are the stronger candidates who people will pick for their strength.

I know I'm strong off the amount of exercise I do but people won't pick me. There are a lot of people stronger than me anyway.

Me and Rowan just make small talk on the way to the reaping until a group of a few girls join us and they flirt with both of us. They continue to do so until we have to line up and I'm separated from Rowan, who waits with the rest of the adults.

It doesn't take long before the mayor has read the treaty of treason and the same woman as last year, Maria Yellow, walks onto the stage. She's just as quiet as last year as she introduces herself before walking over to the girl's reaping bowl.

"Rhyl Phae," she calls quietly. There is no scream. A girl walks out of the fourteen year old section with her head held high. She walks up to the stage boldly and confidently and remains that way. I wonder why she got picked? I've heard rumours that she's a bit odd but that's no reason to get picked.

"And now for the boys," Maria squeaks. "Emmit Cottonbe."

What? No, how? I nervously smirk for the cameras before walking to the stage. I avoid anyone staring at me. Instead, I shake hands with Rhyl when I reach the stage. I stand and stare out into the crowd while Maria says some closing speech but I quickly snatch the microphone out of her hands.

"Why did you vote for me?" I ask suddenly. I say it before my brain can even process the thoughts.

"Now now, let's calm down," Maria says taking the microphone out of my hands.

But why did they vote for me? I find myself asking this question over and over as I'm led into the Justice Building until Rowan walks in and wraps his arms around me.

"Why did they vote for me?"

"That doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're going to win, you're going to come back and we're going to have an amazing house in victor's village, no more living on the streets."

Maybe this was destiny. Maybe, I was reaped so I could get off the streets, so I could live a good life. But would I be able to live a good life knowing I'd killed?

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed that reaping, the next one should be coming soon.**

**Thank you for all the reviews so far and please keep them coming, reviews help me to see who's reading and also what my writing is like. Now please review. **


	7. District 12 Reaping

**Here's the next reaping from District 12. We have Viserion from xX Yoruichi Byakuya xX and Howleen, our female, from Awkward Red Velvet Demon. Enjoy :)**

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**Viserion Facensearo's POV (12):**

The boy who killed the mayor - that's what they call me. Everyone knows I did it, but they have no concrete evidence and the justice system in this district is rubbish so I've been let off quite easily. Killing the Mayor really isn't as bad as it sounds because let's be honest, he was a shit mayor; he was almost on his death bed anyway and his pride and laziness were really pissing me off. I can only take so much of someone constantly saying how great they are at their job and I was his bodyguard, not his fucking slave. A simple knife to the heart and he was dead. What were his last words? "Go get me a cup of tea now, Viserion." And I'm oh-so-flattered to know his last word was my own name. Really.

"I'd kill you right now Viserion," the ex-Mayor's son scowls at me, "but you're going to get reaped anyway, I'd rather see you suffer in the games." He walks over and suddenly tightens the ropes he's got tied around my wrists. Somehow this bastard crept into my house during the night and now he's got me tied up. Quite an unhonourable way of getting an advantage over someone and as much as he likes to convince himself he could, he would never even have the guts to kill me. While me? I would happily shove a knife through his heart.

"Oh well, at least I won't have to see your mutation of a face again," I smile sarcastically at him.

"I'm going to love seeing you get ripped apart in the arena," he replies, completely ignoring what I said.

"You're quite an arrogant little arse-hole, aren't you?"

"And you're quite the hypocrite, aren't you?" he replies quickly.

"If I cared what others thought I wouldn't be here right now," I reply as he begins to walk forward. I back further up into the bedpost, pretending to be scared of him. As soon as he gets close enough to me, I launch my foot out, hitting him in the balls. He screams out in pain and I quickly use my teeth to pull out one of the knots in the rope. This quickly releases one of my hands which I use to release the other.

"Are you hurt?" I ask in a childish voice, "does this little boy want his Daddy?" I ask wiping away non-existent tears at his eyes. "Oh yeah, he's dead," I say before kicking him square in the stomach. I walk over to the window and open it before picking the pathetic kid up and chucking him out. As soon as he's in a good enough state to stand up he'll be too scared to even dare come back in here.

"Dad, breakfast made yet?" I shout downstairs. I wouldn't be surprised if he had heard this little fight going on up here but let's be honest, he wouldn't care.

"Yeah sure," he calls back up so I quickly run down. "If it isn't my favourite son," he says, ruffling my hair. "Well... no offence Elrion but you know, Viserion's just amazing," he adds on, looking apologetically to my younger brother who looks quite hurt. Everyone knows I'm Dad's favourite anyway, so there's no point in hiding it.

"I'm your favourite daughter though, aren't I dad?" my twin sister, Veriano, asks smiling brightly.

"Of course," he replies happily.

"That would be because she's your only daughter," Elrion quickly buts in, still quite hurt by the remark about me.

"Well Dad would prefer me over any girl in the world," Veriano responds.

"Well, that's debatable," Dad responds playfully, punching Veriano lightly on the arm.

I have to say our family relationship is quite good. I don't get on with anyone anywhere near as good as I do with my family because they are so alike to me. We joke around, we have a laugh, we know we're quite a lot better than most of this district. Furthermore, my family know I killed the mayor and they don't do anything about it because I have a good enough reason. Dad always used to say the mayor was no good for the district anyway.

"What was the noise upstairs, before?" Elrion asks suddenly.

"Just getting into a fight with myself," I mutter, I can't really be bothered to explain what really was going on although Dad would probably defend me for it anyway.

"You're obsessed with fighting." Well... that is true. Fighting is fun, there's no two ways about it. It brings me quite a satisfaction to know I've beaten someone in a fight - it shows that I'm better, stronger, tougher than that person. Another thing, I don't care about getting hurt, that's all part of the fun, right?

"Fighting's fun," I reply. "Don't you agree Dad?"

"Well, sometimes, if you win.." he hesitates, clearly trying not to send the wrong message across to Elrion who has never been in a fight before. He looks up to me quite a lot for inspiration on what to do as a result.

"And I always win, so all's good."

"On a different subject, something came through the post for you today, Viserion," my Dad says, sounding quite shocked, and to be honest, that is quite a shock. It's rare that anyone ever gets post in this household. Dad walks over to the counter and takes a gleaming white letter off the side before handing it to me. I quickly rip it open and read it slowly, trying to figure out what every word says (being from District Twelve, I don't think anyone has very good reading skills).

_Dear Viserion,_

_We are writing to tell you that you have been included in the mayor's will to obtain some of his possessions. Each of the mayor's bodyguards will get 5% of his money for helping him through his service. You have also been selected to obtain his study (a large house near Victor's Village) and a collection of ornaments._

_You may collect these possessions tomorrow._

_Yours sincerely, Elder Roman._

Well, the Mayor clearly wrote this way before I began my hatred for him. Poor man; he would never have gave me all of that stuff if he knew I was to shove a knife into his heart.

"What is it, son?" Dad asks, I throw him the letter and after a few minutes of intense reading his face lights up. He passes the letter to Elrion and then to Veriano - both of them also seem delighted.

"Son, that's fantastic," he says finally. "We'll finally get to move out of this shit-hole. Imagine living in a nice house..."

"We'll be popular," Elrion adds excitedly.

"Everyone will want to come round to mine," Veriano says.

"We'll have a lot of money to spend..."

"Stop!" I suddenly yell and everyone goes silent. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm going to get reaped today and if I don't come back, you won't be getting the money or the house."

Silence reigns over the room as the sudden realisation of me getting reaped becomes more apparent.

* * *

**Howleen Jennings' POV (12):**

_"You're a good little horsie, aren't you?" I coo, patting Jenny on the head. I stroke her mane and watch as it bounces back into place. For minutes, I sit there watching Jenny, mesmerised until my eyes change focus and I see the lamp so I decide to walk towards it. I walk closer and hold my hand out. I trip and knock the hay bale and the lamp falls in flames, one by one the hay bales light up and the fire sends smoke spiralling into the air._

_"Help!" I scream running towards the exit but then a wooden plank set on fire falls from the ceiling, blocking the exit. I run towards Jenny, cowering under her large body but she begins to go wild. Her foot flies out, hitting me in the stomach, and the pain is terrible._

_"Mummy!" I scream. "Daddy!" The fire continues to spread but my eyes are blurred with tears. I lie there until I feel the familiar soft hands of Mummy touch me._

_"Are you alright darling?" she asks, coughing madly. I shake my head crying out. How could I have done this? A gush of fresh air suddenly hits me as I'm placed on the floor outside the burn._

_"Are you alright Mummy?" I ask seeing the terrible burns scolding her arms while mine aren't bad. Well, apart from my stomach hurting badly._

_"Go get Dad..."_

"I'm sorry Mum," I whisper, kneeling next to her grave. "I never meant to start the fire, I really didn't. Everyone says I did but I didn't. I was only seven, I wasn't even old enough to know what was going on. You do forgive me, don't you?" I ask, a silent tear falling from my eye and hitting the soil mounted on top of her body. Of course she doesn't reply to me, she never does. I don't come here very often, I come about twice a year and since I did last reaping day, I decided going this day would be a good idea.

"Dad doesn't like me anymore you know, not since you left. He just doesn't speak to me... he prefers to be with the woman he replaced you with. Because he did replace you, you know? He replaced you for this horrible woman who doesn't care for me at all. She's called Edin but insists on me calling her Mum. I can't though," I pause for a second as my voice breaks. "And she has a different daughter called Scarlett. And Scarlett's a bully, and she tells everyone I killed you on purpose and do you know what the worse thing is?"

I stay silent, hoping that she'll respond but of course I get nothing.

"They believe her. Everyone thinks I killed you on purpose. But why would I do that? I love you with all my heart and I just want you to come back. I wish I never started that fucking fire. I wish I never went into that stupid barn and petted that horse." I find my hands pulling out the grass around me and more tears stream from my eyes.

"I miss you Mum and I know that you miss me," I say kissing the gravestone that has her name engraved on it. I begin to rearrange the flowers into a nice pattern when a voice calls out behind me.

"Who do you think you're fooling, Howl?" I quickly turn around to see a girl about my age standing about ten metres away from me. I choose not to respond to her, instead I continue to rearrange the flowers. "Hey, I said who do you think you're fooling? Everyone knows you killed her on purpose, now stop putting on this petty act of pretending to care for her."

"I do care for her," I whisper to myself.

"Are you going to fucking answer me or not?" the girl growls at me. I stand up, take one look at her and shake my head. That girl isn't worth my attention, no-one is if they choose to believe I killed my own Mum. I smile sarcastically at the stupid girl before skipping out of the graveyard. I hear her angry calls as I hop over to the wall and begin to jog lightly down the street. I head through the Seam, not paying attention to the few calls I get from people. Most people won't bother today; they're all too bothered about the reaping.

Soon enough, I get to the reaping square where there is a long line of people, for some reason there is a hold-up at the start of the line. I wait patiently for about ten minutes but during those ten minutes I don't move at all so I decide to step to the side to see what's going on. In that moment the person behind me trips me up slightly and my shoe falls off. I reach out for the golden flat but someone quickly snatches it and lobs it into the group of fifteen year old girls.

"Oh thanks, that happens to be my section actually," I smile at the boy behind me and after another few minutes the line begins to move forward much quicker.

"Hand," the woman at the desk says, snatching my hand and pricking my finger. I grimace but try to forget the pain as I go on search for my shoe in my section. I swear that the boy had thrown it right here...

"Hey, Howl," a girl says, looking at me. I don't know who it is but everyone knows who I am. The girl is swinging around my shoe on her finger and in a swift change of movement she throws it at me full force. The shoe hits me in the stomach causing pain to sear through me.

"Shame that didn't hurt," I say bravely, putting my shoe back on.

There is a sudden screech as our escort hits the microphone. Our escort has to be the oldest out of all the districts.

"Hello my name is Effie Trinket as you all know, and unfortunately at the moment you don't have a mayor so I will be reading the treaty of treason out," she says, sounding extremely nervous. Everyone knows Effie was the escort when the infamous Katniss Everdeen was reaped and there are rumours around that she was also involved with the rebellion. She goes on to read the treaty of treason before heading over to the boy's bowl on the opposite side of the stage.

"We'll be different and select the boy first," she says scraping the only slip in the bowl out with her overly long fingernails.

"Viserion Facensearo," she calls, looking at the name quite strangely. Oh, everyone knows him. He killed the mayor and what's a better way to sentence him than to send him to the Hunger Games. Not that anyone even knows for sure that he killed him. It might just be a rumour, like the rumour that I killed my Mum...

The boy emerges from the eighteen year old section looking overly confident. He smirks for the cameras and when he gets onto the stage he bows.

"And now for the girls," Effie says, her heels clicking annoyingly against the stage as she heads over to the girl's bowl.

"Howleen Jennings."

I should have known. If they picked Viserion for supposedly killing the mayor, obviously they would pick me for supposedly killing my Mum.

"Killer," a voice suddenly yells out. That's Scarlett.

"Killer," another voice calls out and then another one and another and another. The voices call out again and again and again until I make my way onto the stage. Effie looks at the two of us with sadness in her eyes.

"This year's tributes, Viserion and Howleen," she calls, holding our arms up in the air.

"They're both killers," another voice shouts out, and the chants start again.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. So there's another two characters, so we are almost half way through the reapings. **

**As always your reviews are very much appreciated and I love to know what you think so please review :)**


	8. District 6 Reaping

**Hello there. This is District 6 and we have Tom from mparts99, Zaira from HeartfeltSorrow13 and Tate from DA Member Hogwarts. Enjoy! **

* * *

**Tom Black's POV, 18, (6):**

There are all these people with their sad histories; the loss of their parents, their siblings, their grandparents. Death seems to take everyone earlier than it should. I guess death just takes you when the world no longer wants you. So death has taken my family, all of them. First Rachel, raped and then murdered by her sadistic boyfriend. Then Adrian, whipped to death by the head peacekeeper. Next my youngest sister May, killed by my Dad's drunken antics and after realising what he'd done, my Dad decided to kill himself. And then finally my Mother dying at childbirth along with the baby.

It's fair to say I haven't had the best childhood. It's been nothing but a chain of events that have torn my family apart. None of this would have happened if Rachel hadn't decided to fall in love with a nutter. Adrian would never have attacked him and got himself whipped to death. Dad would never have began to drink because of the loss of his children, he would never have accidentally killed May meaning he would never have killed himself. Mam would never have decided she needed another child and she would never have died at childbirth.

If only.

I can't help but feel like I'm next. We've been getting picked off one by one and now I'm the only one left. The only one left to fall? Maybe so and that's why I live life to the fullest. That's why I try to have fun, that's why I pull my pranks and I don't care about the consequences. Because I've seen so many people taken away from me with so much left to give.

I pull up alongside a great mansion on my motorcycle. Now, you're probably wondering how on earth I got a motorcycle. Well, I'm handy with cars and vehicles of all sorts so when a man threw it in the junkyard saying it was broke, I managed to fix it up easily, I painted it night black and now I ride it everywhere. I park it up alongside the fence as a man in a large blue dressing gown walks out of the house. Does he not realise it's mid-day?

"Ah, you've brought the petrol for my car, correct?" the man says in a very posh voice and nods his head towards the gleaming red car parked in front of the home. I nod my head, smiling and walk over to the car with the fuel canister. "Would you mind putting it in for me?" he asks and once again I just nod.

Quickly, I pour the fuel into the car and walk over to him. "Thank you very much young man," he says cheerfully handing me some money for the job being done.

"You're very welcome. Might you want to take it out for a test drive? By the look of the dust on that car you haven't been out in it for a while?" I say as politely as possible.

"Why, what a splendid idea," he says and rushes back into the house. Now to make my escape. I quickly sprint towards the motorcycle and hop onto it, driving away without a moment's hesitation. That man doesn't know what's just hit him. Stupid rich bastard.

The rich are all the same in this district. They live in their perfect mansions and make sure to make a show of driving around in their fancy cars. Well I've dealt with quite a few of these fancy cars and this man I have just visited is no exception. He's going to get quite a shock when he realises I've put diesel in the car and not petrol. He'll have to get a new one, what a shame.

I suddenly rev up the engine of my motorcycle and speed round the corner of the street. There's nothing like the satisfaction of the breeze against your face as you drive down the streets of District Six. I hear a few screams from scared pedestrians but what are they going to do? There's not even a speed limit so I can go as fast as I want.

One thing I don't expect is to see an old woman crossing the road as I turn the corner. I press my hand against the break as fast as I can and it suddenly jolts to the side causing me to fly forward over the handlebar. My head hits off the floor and my hand feels liquid. Am I bleeding? My vision begins to go funny and I feel hands touching my startled form. Voices surround me but I fail to decipher anything that they are saying. I try to say words myself but I also fail.

Slowly the misty vision I had turns darker and darker until there's nothing.

"Tommy," my younger sister, May, whispers into my ear.

"Yes," I whisper back.

"Will you tell me the truth?" she asks even quieter this time.

"About what darling?"

"Rachel and Adrian, why aren't they here?" This time I pretend not to hear her. She can't ever know the truth. It would destroy her. We stay quiet for some time until my Dad stumbles into the room clearly drunk. We both stay quiet; it's best not to speak to him when he's drunk.

"Tom," a hard fist suddenly slams into my back and I double forward onto the kitchen floor. My knees graze against the floor and May quickly comes to my rescue.

"Don't help him May, he's being a girl's blouse," I hear my Father's voice. He suddenly picks her up and chucks her behind him. I hear a scream and I'm quickly up onto my feet.

She lays limp on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding her head.

I'm suddenly shook back into reality and an unfamiliar face looms over me.

"Are you okay, young man?" the woman says holding the back of her hand against my forehead. I feel a pressure against my head and I place my hand against my head to find a bandage.

"Yes," I reply slowly, "where'd this bandage come from?"

"Oh I put it on for you, you had quite a knock there, are you sure you're alright?" she asks kindly.

"Yes, I'm sure. Do you know where my motorcycle is?" I ask the question, trying to change the pictures of May floating around in my head. Not just May though, now I can see Rachel, Adrian, Dad, Mam and my baby brother dead at birth..

"Erm, I'm not sure actually. I've had to shave your hair a bit so I could clear the wound, sorry about that," she says.

"Oh it's fine. I've never liked my hair anyway," I ruffle my hand through my shorter ginger hair. An awkward silence fills the line after I speak and I really want to leave but I can't help but feel rude if I do so. I begin to stand up slightly getting a full view of the room I'm lying in.

"Thanks for taking me in," I say politely.

"Oh it's my pleasure, being the head peacekeeper's wife means.." I don't know what she was going to say I suddenly feel my fist slam into the chest of drawers next to me. The woman shrieks and I send my foot slamming into the glass cabinet next to me. It shatters into pieces and I take one last look at the cowering woman before sprinting out the house.

Her son killed Rachel. Her son raped and murdered my sister.

I sprint down the streets to get as far away from the house as possible before hiding in an ally.

Life is a chain of events. Everyone seems to be linked somehow. I don't know if I can trust anyone nowadays.

* * *

**Tate Thatcher's POV, 14, (6):**

"Class, the reaping is tomorrow as you all know. Now why do we have the reapings?" my pathetic teacher calls out to the class. The answer to the question: because the Capitol are a bunch of sick sadistic idiots who like to destroy people's lives. They could use that technology to do so much more, prevent natural disasters, cure medical conditions, anything but hold an annual Hunger Games so the pathetic Capitolites can watch district children be slaughtered on live TV.

But of course I can't say such a thing. Not after last time. I wrote the essay to show how wrong the Capitol was, but I didn't realise I would get into so much trouble. Now I'm on watch, they know I'm rebellious but I've been quiet, I've kept my thoughts to myself but sometimes it's just too difficult. I say things before I think about them; I've always loved to have a good debate with someone.

"Because the districts tried to rebel," a girl with long blonde hair and tanned skin calls out. I hear the boys around me whisper to each other about how 'fit' she is but I just pretend I didn't hear them. I don't want to get involved in feelings and emotions, they are just confusing. I look up from my piece of paper at the girl but I see nothing, I don't feel anything for the girl. While any other boy sees her as beautiful, I just see an average girl just like every other girl in the class. The girl suddenly turns around to the source of the whispers and flips her a bit too dramatically.

"Very good Amity," my teacher calls back and then goes on to talk about how the districts were wrong. They weren't. They were doing what was right, they wanted justice and we had it. Most of my life has been lived in justice until the games came back last year. I couldn't watch as the girl from my district was thrown into the fire. No-one could bare to look at her raw body when it was delivered back in a wooden coffin.

"Tate," my teacher's voice suddenly calls my name and I jump slightly in shock, knocking my chair back. There are a few giggles and my cheeks heat up nervously. "Would you like to tell us about last year's Hunger Games?" she asks quite demandingly. She's doing this on purpose. She's been doing this ever since I wrote that essay. She's testing me to see if I slip up again because if I do she has even more evidence that I'm 'anti Capitol', and I don't even want to know what would happen to me then.

"But this is History of Pa-panem," I stutter nervously twiddling my fingers with each other.

"Well done," she remarks sarcastically and there are a chorus of giggles throughout the classroom. Why are they laughing? That was sarcasm, sarcasm isn't funny it's just a way of trying to be clever and everyone knows she's not clever. She's only been employed as the teacher because she's a peacekeeper's wife. "Now as I said would you like to explain the key features of last year's games?"

"Some people died," I reply bluntly, her eyes light up in shock. As much as I want to describe how wrong the games are and how much of a disgrace they are, I can't.

"And?"

"Some girl from District Four won," I say, standing up and walking out the classroom immediately. I can't take this anymore. They teach us lies when they don't have to. Why can't they just teach us normal things that I like to learn about?

I walk down the corridor trying to get as far away from the classroom as I can when I feel a hand touch my back. I turn around quickly, expecting the teacher to be standing there but instead I see Nolita. Probably one of the only people I can call a friend. She's not interested in school and technology like I am, in fact she is quite boisterous and outgoing but she admires me for who I am and that's all I can ask. She doesn't expect me to talk about my feelings because she knows I'm not good with all of that type of stuff. She just knows me too well.

"Come on Tate, that's how you'll get into trouble," she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"I just don't care anymore. I don't want to learn about the history of Panem, I want to learn about things I like. Like technology and computers."

"You know that's not how things can be," she replies.

"Well that's how they should be. I've had enough of the Hunger Games and the Capitol," I shout and she suddenly places her hand over my mouth.

"Tate, keep your voice down," she whispers harshly. "Now are you going to come and apologise to Miss?"

"Ha," I laugh, "Are you kidding me? I'll just end up having another debate with her about the Capitol."

"It's not a debate when you're bawling and shouting at each other," Nolita retorts, grabbing onto the cuff of my shirt and beginning to drag me towards the classroom.

"I'm not going back in there Nolita. People will laugh at me."

"And since when did you care about such things?"

"You know I don't know how to act when..." I mumble. I've never been good around people. I've always been better with a book in my hands.

"Fine," she says stubbornly, "but you'll regret it tomorrow when she asks to speak to you after class."

"We don't have class tomorrow, it's the reaping," I reply but Nolita doesn't. We're all fine angrily talking about how stupid and illogical the Hunger Games are but as soon as we realise one of us can get picked we are nervous wrecks. Last year I was sure I'd get picked, I was relieved to see that other boy walk up to the stage and then I suddenly felt guilty when he was killed by that trap in the bloodbath.

That's another thing. That trap was so technological, think of all the money spent on making and designing that trap. Think what that money could have been spent on. The Capitol are so illogical. I mean, how shallow and selfish can you get to use such power to create death traps? It's all so fascinating the amount of technology they have and sometimes I see them make such amazing things like the hovercrafts and motored cars but seeing them make such traps is sick.

"We won't get reaped," Nolita's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Why would the district vote for us? We're just average kids," her voice is reassuring but I can't help but argue back. I can't help but voice my opinion.

"I'm not average, I'm the district outcast."

"You're not!" Nolita says. "And even if you were that doesn't mean people will vote for you."

"But what if they do, they'll be thinking 'let's vote for someone that doesn't matter', that person is me," I say back and I can't help but feel that is true.

"There're plenty people that will get voted before.." Nolita begins to speak but I quickly cut her out as an even more terrifying image comes into my head.

"And what about her," my finger shoots towards the direction of the classroom. "She'll want rid of a troublesome, rebellious kid like me. And isn't she the wife of a peacekeeper?"

"No, Tate, shush."

"She is! And I bet that peacekeeper told other peacekeepers to vote for me."

"Tate, stop it, you're over-thinking," she replies angrily.

"I wouldn't express my thoughts if I didn't think they were true Nolita."

* * *

**Zaira Moana's POV, 17, (6):**

I pull the silver strap over my shoulder and move so I can see myself in the mirror. I look like a princess and that's what I am. My Mother has always told me Zaira means princess in Italian but nowadays such languages are banned so it's a secret I just keep to myself. I'm good at keeping secrets but then again I would consider myself good at most things. That would be because of my amazing parents who have given me so much in life, I make a point of thanking them many times.

I slip one of my feet into the plimsolls and I feel gentle fingers entwined in my hair. I turn around to face my beautiful Mother. At the age of thirty-nine, she looks as young as twenty-five. She holds a small tiara in her hand and gently places it atop of my head.

"I always said you were a princess darling," she says, adjusting the tiara a little more so that my chestnut brown hair doesn't get caught in it. "You look beautiful as always," she says, her sapphire blue eyes matching mine as she looks over my face. "Darling," she suddenly says, reaching her hand out to touch my scar that runs from my left eyebrow over my cheek bone. "Why haven't you covered it up today?" she looks in pure shock at my decision to leave it the way it is as I normally heavily cover it with foundation.

"I wanted to see what people thought of it and if I get reaped then people might see me as competition, they'll see the scar and be like 'I wonder where such a scar came from, maybe she's a good fighter,'" I reply.

"If you get reaped darling, you'll be coming out for sure. Think of the amount of sponsors you'll get off my old friends and all our family. They'll do anything to help a Capitol citizen," my Mother says confidently and then kisses me on the forehead.

"Are you sure?" I ask. I know it is a high possibility that I'll get reaped. I know that everyone would like the honour of me representing them at the games. I shouldn't really be able to get reaped in the first place. I'm not a District Six citizen, I'm a Capitolite. Mother only came here to star in a film and then we decided to settle down for a little while. It wasn't until the games came back that we decided it would be best to move but they wouldn't let us, so we are stuck here. As much as I do love the Capitol I have begun to see District Six as my home. Here are all my friends and here I see the poorer children of the district and this makes me realise how lucky I am to have such well-off parents.

"I'm sure," my Mother replies, once again planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "Now, in case you do get reaped, I'd like you to wear the ring," she says. I feel my eyes open wide at the prospect of wearing the ring. I remember choosing it when I was so little, it was so pretty I decided I must have it. That is one of the few memories I have left of the Capitol.

I watch as Mother walks over to the glass cabinet, she delicately pulls out the velvet cased box and hands me the ring. I quickly slip it onto my left hand and watch as the gems create a light display with the reflection from the sun. Coincidently, sunlight begins to pour through the window more and more until the whole room is lit up. I smile at my Mother and she interlocks her hand with mine as we leave my room and head down the stairs. We have to go through quite a few more rooms before we reach the kitchen where Father is, eating his breakfast.

"There's my beautiful girl," he says cheekily and then continues to eat his breakfast.

"What do you think of Zaira's dress, Irving, we bought it yesterday," my Mother asks straightening out the hem and directing me to do a little twirl for my Father to which I oblige.

"It's very nice," my Father replies, not looking up, instead he decides to open the newspaper, "There are rumours spreading about the arena this year, apparently-" my dad begins to change the subject, clearly not interested in my fashion choices but my Mother quickly buts in.

"Irving, Zaira is about to attend the reaping. I'm sure she doesn't want you talking about the games," Mother says quite angrily. I didn't want to say but I completely agree with Mother. As much as it would be an honour to compete in these games - as it would mean my whole district had picked me - I still think they are a vile and cruel way of getting authority.

"Well, I'm off to the square," I cheerily say before an argument can kick off. I'm chorused with different messages about safety and 'good luck's' from my Mother before I finally get to depart from the house. Luckily, our house is very large and all the large houses are grouped close to the justice building, so it doesn't take me long before I'm standing in line to have my finger pricked.

The line is extraordinarily long but I see Jixton who quickly rushes over to me and kisses me on the cheek. Boy, I've had a lot of kisses today!

"Oh gosh, I'm nervous," Jixton says waving a hand in front of his face as if he was sweating.

"Oh you'll be fine," I reply hugging him. Jixton is probably one of the most dramatic people I know, he overthinks practically everything.

"Oi, gayboy, back of the line," a tall boy behind us suddenly shouts at Jixton.

"That better not be an insult," I say immediately sticking up for my friend. Jixton is gay but that is not a bad thing. It is his choice what sexuality he is.

"Don't get sassy with me, you brat," he snaps before gripping onto Jixton and shoving him behind him. I cry out but Jixton walks to the back of the line and I chose not to communicate with this boy anymore. He'll get his comeuppance someday. I've got a good enough memory, soon enough I'll get a name and then I'll get Dad to get him sorted out.

"Hand," the woman at the desk bluntly says grabbing onto my hand and jabbing the needle straight into my finger. It's too quick to even feel any pain so I just walk over to my section in the seventeen year olds.

A brightly coloured escort bounces onto the stage and walks straight over to the male's bowl without even an introduction. How rude.

"And District Six's male tribute this year will be.. Tom Black!"

There's a sudden cry from the eighteen year old section, I hear a few words like 'maniacs', 'damn' and some other stuff. Soon enough a boy with bright ginger hair is dragged on stage and I gasp suddenly feeling bad. I voted for that boy... but-but-but I have my reasons. He messed up our car and I'm sure he did it on purpose because loads of the cars have been getting messed up. It's his fault, he shouldn't have messed up all the cars... so why do I feel so guilty?

"Zaira Moana!"

Oh gosh.

"Serves her right."

"Stuck up cow."

Am I hearing things? People would never say such things about me... everyone likes me, don't they? That's why they've voted me in. So I can bring honour back to the district. My district.

I stride up to the stage confidently and smile brightly at our escort before turning to face Tom. I voted for him.

"And now for our District Six extra.. because you did so bad in last year's games...Tate Thatcher," the escort calls. Silence. "Tate Thatcher, could you come up to the stage please?" She calls a few more times before there is a sudden gasp in the fourteen year old boys section and a boy wearing glasses walks up to the stage with almost no emotion.

We are all told to shake hands and then we are pushed into the justice building where I am quickly sat down in a room.

What an honour this is, to have my whole district vote for me to come into the games. Boy, there will be a lot of people waiting to come and see me.

First of all, my Mother and Father burst into the room. They don't look too happy but neither do they look sad. Instead, they just give me praise on getting the honour, they tell me how I'll be getting to go back to the Capitol for a bit. They tell me of how much of a worthy victor I will be before they are ushered out and Jixton and my other great friend Polly enter.

"Oh no, this is devastating," Jixton cries and Polly nods her head meekly.

"It's fine, I'm happy to be given such an honour. Anyway I'll get to bring my family name even further up the rankings than they already are." The rest of our goodbyes consist of us talking about past memories until they are also ushered out of the room (not without a highly dramatic exit from Jixton). Now to wait for the rest of my visitors.

I wait and wait for quite a few minutes until the door creaks open and a peacekeeper leans in.

"Time to board the train miss," he calls.

"I need to wait for my visitors," I call happily.

"Miss, there's no-one here..."

"What?"

No-one else has came to visit me? What about all my friends from school? All my admirers. I can't possibly have heard those people right when they said 'stuck up cow'. Surely I'm only here because people want me to bring honour to my district, right?

* * *

**A/N: First of all sorry for the amount of time it took me to update and the next update may be a long time as well, sorry. Hopefully you did like this chapter. Three more tributes to add to the batch and we are half way there. **

**Who are your favourite three so far? **

**And please leave a review :)**


	9. Note

**Notice**:

**Hello guys, I know I haven't updated in forever and to be honest I just don't think I'm going to find the time to do it anytime soon, I have a lot of commitments. Maybe one day I'll be able to do another syot but for now I don't have the time and if anything I'll just do some one-shots. **

**Thank you everyone for submitting tributes and I'm sorry for the authors that I never got to write for. **


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